


Lost And Found

by ShahHira



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Brothers acting like REAL SUPPORTIVE BROTHERS feat., Gen, Genji and his endless sword collection, Hanzo's uprising spray as an oft-ignored character quirk (which is just criminal yall), Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Noodle Dragons, Post-Recall AU, Sibling Bonding, and NO this is NOT shi/mada/cest no matter how you interpret it, dragon!shimadas, except THEY'RE HUGE, look at genji. he is the Big Brother now, most likely wrong facts about the ecology of snails
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-11-10 00:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShahHira/pseuds/ShahHira
Summary: McCree, injured on a mission, falls down a hole and ends up in a forest. He's cut off from Overwatch, chances of rescue is slim, and there is more to this paradise than meets the eye...





	1. Enter The Glade

Jesse hadn’t been on a swing in ages.

He used to go to this little park in his neighborhood when he was a kid – quaint, but perpetually littered with trash. Once when his mama dragged him, later hooked when he learned the joys of sailing through the air on that rickety swing set. It was exhilarating, feeling the wind rush by while never leaving your seat. Was a shame when he joined Deadlock. He hadn’t been in his hometown in a long time. Maybe he should…

Jesse coughed, then groaned as his head spun. C’mon McCree, focus.

From what he could tell he was currently in the air, suspended on a massive tree branch flopped over on his belly like a piece of soggy laundry. An easy conclusion to make, considering he had fallen through a number of branches after that strange sniper landed a lucky shot on his shoulder in between the straps of his chestplate. Next thing he knew the momentum was letting him fall to where he is right now. Speaking of, his back was killing him being all bent out of shape like this.

He opened his eyes. Then shut them. Just his luck. It was pitch black. Fighting the discomfort, McCree attempted to shift into as normal of a sitting position he could manage while god knows how many feet in the air, before losing his balance and thudding to the ground. Luck was on his side: the fall wasn’t too far and the ground was soft. On the other hand it was marshy, and beads of lichen and unidentifiable mossy material stuck to his shirt like the burrs back in the New Mexico desert. There he goes again with the nostalgia.

He dusts himself off irritably, the lack of light not doing him any favors in scoping out the area. It put him on edge, not knowing his surroundings. He stood still and focused anyway, eventually hearing faint sounds of birdsong and loud whistling of wind directly in front of him. He took his first steps cautiously, taking inventory in case anything was sprained from the fall and brushed his hand over Peacekeeper in a securing gesture. Finally, a sliver of light shone through a crack and McCree pushed his way out.

Goddamn. He knew he was in a forest but this was on a whole ‘nother level.

The first thing that caught his eye was the sheer amount of tree trunks that covered every inch of his line of sight. Thick roots rolled like tentacles across the lush, green forest floor, made from the same spongy material from before as his boots sunk satisfyingly with each careful step. Peering up was a real marvel. McCree had scoffed at the stories of hundreds of feet tall trees covering the sky with their leaves, but what few fragments of sunlight there were struggled to peek through the canopy. And it seemed to go on for a while, too.

He had to stop himself from venturing any further, steps itching to be taken. Protocol dictated that he should wait for the rescue party at his last known location. Best bet was to stay put, fiddle with any comm devices still functioning, and wait for extraction. Besides, there was no way he had any chance of climbing out with a busted limb. But…

The sense of adventure came rushing back to McCree and he welcomed it with open arms. Aching bullet wound or otherwise, there was no way he was going to pass up an opportunity to stoke a passion that hadn’t been ignited since rejoining Overwatch. It didn’t take too much convincing for him to set off on a linear path, sticking twigs up in the soft soil every so often to place as a marker, sending a quick prayer to whatever deity that was listening that he wouldn’t get hopelessly lost.

High up in the woods, however, two gods were watching his every move.


	2. The Glade's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree finds a nice spot to make camp, when he meets a few visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAWD that’s exactly 1700 words of mccree backstory alone in some woods, thank you for bearing with me. As promised, here is the longer chapter!

Some hours later the novelty had worn off and McCree was wishing for _something_ to space out the endless stretch of trees. Yeah sure, they were a marvel to behold. He had never seen trunks the size of steel pipes, and the amount of green burned his eyes a little. Who knew there was this much green in one place?

But with the canopy blocking his view of the sun he had no idea what time of day it was or how much time had passed. His limbs felt heavy and the uneven ground didn’t help with his footing. At least a small comfort was that there was no one to witness the spectacle of the (self-proclaimed) badass cowboy tripping over his own two feet, or McCree’s reputation would be ruined for sure.

He spotted a few rabbits and deer in the distance, relieved at the presence of wildlife. If he was going to be stuck here for a longer period of time, it would be prudent to take note of the plants that were edible. A few bushes carrying red berries caught his eye, and though they tasted bitter he filled up his hat with as many as he could fit, munching on them to keep up his strength and battle the heat.

And he was not prepared at all for the humidity, cotton serape and leather chaps over jeans making for a deadly combo of stuffy clothing. More than once he resorted to taking swigs from his flask, gaining temporary respite from the alcohol even though he knew it would only cause him more dehydration later on. Which was another problem he had to solve, McCree added to his mental list as he forced a particularly large drooping branch out of his path. A river or something would be handy…

“No fuckin’ way…” McCree gasped and dropped his hat, the remaining berries rolling out on the dirt.

To much of McCree’s instant relief and growing amazement, the trees finally cleared out to a vast sprawling beach, golden sand enclosing a huge body of perfectly clear water. Stepping fully into the glade, McCree started at the sudden stream of noise coming from the water, then relaxed when he found the source; a waterfall partially hidden by gigantic palm fronds situated not too far up emptied lazily into the small lake. To his left was a small rock formation.

For the first time in his life, McCree wanted nothing more but to rip off his cowboy boots and sink his toes into the fine sand. It was like something straight out of a movie. And best of all there were no more of those goddamn trees blocking his view of the sunlight that was streaming in unhindered. McCree threw his head back and beamed right back up to the sky, his mood already starting to elevate despite the numerous aches he’d gathered from his trek. If it weren’t for the fact that his teammates thought he was gravely injured – or worse, dead – he’d think the higher ups in heaven had granted him that break he’d always dreamed of having.

Screw it, he’s gonna have the time of his life here.

Before McCree throws himself headfirst into his preemptive vacation, however, he was too much of a seasoned agent not to do some recon and scope out the area for any activity, particularly for any hostiles that might’ve followed his way here without him knowing. It also turned out that the pointed rock formation actually housed a long and narrow cave. Ducking into the entrance revealed a ceiling that eventually leveled off just enough that his hat would barely scrape the roof. Nevertheless it would be a perfect place to set up camp, with a nice space to construct a campfire to the side. Maybe he’d get to cooking up something as well, if hunting with Peacekeeper didn’t go too badly.

He smiled once again at his luck and fished out his flask for a celebratory drink, only to frown when hardly a drop passed his lips. Mostly unfazed, McCree shrugged it off. It was probably for the best. Washing it out by the edge of the water, McCree figured this was as pure as he was going to get and filled up his flask. Taking a long greedy drink, he leaned back against the stone wall of his new home, attempting to put together his next plan of action.

But his eyes kept drifting over to the water, and the gentle airy breeze that was soothing his sweat-drenched hair, and the insistent throbbing of his shoulder that was eager for relief. He gave an involuntary cringe when he recalled the last time he was in the water. He preferred to think of Blackwatch basic swimming training as not “recreational” at all, considering it was a nightmare to sign McCree off as passing. Barely at that even, since seeing as a twenty-year old McCree doing his best not to flail in waist-high water when that was all he wanted to do was enough for Reyes to put him out of his misery.

McCree cast a wary eye over the nearly-still surface, then was unpleasantly reminded of his sweat-drenched clothing by his nose. At the very least he _could_ wash up…

He only stopped to think for an additional split second before carelessly throwing off his clothes and wading into the water. First contact was difficult – despite the constant rays of sunshine warming up the small lake it was still too chilly for his tastes. He loosened up once he was sure the water level was at best chest-high as he half-walked across the lake towards the waterfall.

The rushing water echoed deafeningly around the dark walls, yet it provided a constant background noise that calmed McCree’s nerves. Reaching around his body with only his right hand available made the wound stretch annoyingly but he’d had more than his fair share of injuries to be hampered down by his current state.

Right, first order of business, rest up. Then discover your inner Boy Scout, map out this forest, and find an alternate exit. McCree cracked a smile as he finished up, stepping out from behind the waterfall. Heh, wouldn’t Morrison be proud of him…

As a lone wanted man on the run for many years, McCree was used to wrenches being thrown into his plans. He was proud of how many well-practiced and crazy schemes he could come up with on the fly: slippery enough to survive against all odds and with cockiness to spare that gave him the luxury to be cheeky once he’d outmaneuvered the countless bounty hunters and enemies he’d encountered along his travels. That’s what made him so special, and why he was also still alive despite his old-fashioned appearances.

But…

A strange noise made him look up from where he was wringing out his wild locks of hair, the sight of which made him question whether those berries he ate weren’t some foreign sort of hallucinogenic. But this, he just could not explain this away at all.

Directly across the lake where he had laid down his serape, clothes, and gear were two gigantic dragons. Despite the weakening sunlight they both stood out in stark contrast to the shadowed forest, easily filling most of the beach with their long shimmering bodies. They were both sniffing his stuff.

“Uhhh…” McCree, for all his calm and collected nature, must’ve made some sort of noise without direct instruction from his brain because suddenly they immediately jerked their heads up and swung their giant heads in his direction, almost in unison. He spotted tiny ears being flattened somewhere in between their broad massive antlers. McCree, for all his experience and worth, did not know what to do. He stood, frozen in position, afraid to even blink.

The dragons seemed to have the same idea. For a while, they were locked in a three-way staring contest, while a million thoughts and possibilities (mostly gruesome, deadly ones) flashed through McCree’s mind. Was he dreaming? Delusional? Were these actually dragons or the product of some insane evolution of lizards?

One of the dragons – the emerald green one, to the right – shifted on its paws – exposing big, black claws that looked very suitable for shredding, McCree noted pointedly – and promptly earned itself a swift look from the blue dragon, followed by a low growl. McCree swore he heard a tiny mewl of protest before settling into its original position.

McCree suddenly had an insane urge to scratch his left arm – he had left his metal arm on the beach, damn it – but instead analyzed his options. A literal sitting duck between two predators. This wasn’t supposed to end well at all.

But they hadn’t lunged for him yet. Now he might be imagining it, but McCree could swear there was a calculating look in the blue dragon’s eyes that were staring him down, a very human-like scrutiny that made him believe that he had a small chance of reasoning a peaceful solution with them. After all, they _were_ dragons, not regular stupid animals. At least, that’s what the fairy tales told him.

McCree cleared his throat, though the “howdy” he offered still came out a bit squeaky. Welp, if fairy tales were all he had, it was worth a shot.

The blue one tilted its head and flicked its ears, but otherwise made no move. Seemed like this one was the boss. “Apologies for spookin’ ya. I noticed you were poking around my stuff,” he talked as casually as he could manage, furtively gathering his wits. Think, McCree, think! “See anything that caught your fancy?”

It was at this moment that McCree regrettably remembered that there was nothing except the water that was just high enough to hide his nudity, and that his underwear was laying in a crumpled mess in full view. McCree desperately wanted to curse his luck with a few (many) choice words. Then again he was still alive so there really was no reason to complain.

“The name’s Jesse,” he continued, stopping just short of tipping the hat which wasn’t on his head. “Is this… your home?”

He wasn’t expecting an answer (obviously) but McCree was beginning to feel like he’d hit a wall when the dragon dipped its head back to the items below, clearly fixated on something.

It wasn’t until the dragon picked up his metal arm in its mouth that McCree cried out, “H-hey, be careful with that!”

Fuck, this was bad. If the only arm he had was out of commission his chances of survival would plummet to zero. That is, if the dragons didn’t decide on keeping him around as a plaything instead of killing him outright.

The long neck of the blue dragon glided over slowly to McCree. At this distance he could make out more details: delicate whiskers, a mane of fur going down the spine. An unwavering, perceptive gaze that bored into his soul. McCree shivered a little.

He also didn’t realize he was holding his breath until a cool snout bumped into his shoulder. With a start McCree jumped back, almost tripping on his own feet. Amid the unimpressed look the dragon was currently giving him, McCree tentatively reached out… and had to scramble to catch his arm when the dragon practically dropped it into his outstretched hand, retreating just as smoothly.

Oh. McCree looked on in astonishment. That was a possibility he hadn’t prepared for. “Thanks,” he said a little out of breath, fitting it on in front of his rapt audience.

Thudding footsteps shook the ground enough for McCree to look up while finishing up the last of the calibrations, looking on as the blue dragon took its leave, slipping back into the woods with a natural elegance.

“Hey now, wait a second! I…” McCree wasn’t even granted a last glance before the last of the dragon’s tail disappeared from view.

The green one, however, held back. There was no mistaking the amusement that was permanently etched into its smug grin, and after McCree had been put through the wringer he was having none of that. Before he could open his mouth to speak his mind though the dragon abruptly left, running after its kin in a much less dignified sprint, flinging sand all around.

It wasn’t until McCree dragged himself out the water a full ten minutes later, exhausted, pruned, and flopped onto his serape to dry that he asked himself in a daze:

What the in the seven hells did he just witness?


	3. Sharing Is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree gets to know the mysterious inhabitants of the forest a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s some more “mccree is alone in the woods” I am sorry this is not what you came for but I promise the next chapters are gonna be different

McCree squatted on his haunches, focusing all his attention at the fresh tracks imprinted on the dirt. Crushed grass clippings aside, it was the cleanest track he had found since waking up and venturing out onto the path he had marked out yesterday to find breakfast. Squinting some more McCree thoughtfully rubbed his chin, and came to the conclusion that no, he had no idea what he was looking at, and accepted the fact that wherever this creature was, it was probably long gone by now. With a resigned sigh, he stood back up.

Following the craziness of yesterday afternoon, McCree had dragged himself into the cave and fallen asleep for a good twelve hours, waking up to what he probably guessed was noon, the sun shining faintly over the glade. Though his arm was still stiff despite the numerous stretches he’d put himself through, it was healing up surprisingly well. Actually, if he thought about it, his wound didn’t even hurt as much as the other times he had unluckily caught a bullet with his body. At this rate it would heal up in no time, he predicted. So much for the greatest sniper Talon had to offer.

In fact, he could almost convince himself that absolutely nothing weird happened yesterday. Finding a bush partially filled with the tiny red berries, he began to load it into the serape he had tied into a sling around his neck, faring much better now that he ditched the flannel and chaps, clad in a simple black t-shirt. This pristine forest would never lie to him.

“Would you do that to me?” he asked a berry, innocently poised between his forefinger and thumb. Shit, if he was blabbering on like this, maybe he really _was_ losing his mind. Letting out a defeated sigh, he flung his quarry into the serape.

His thoughts, however, refused to let go of the two dragons, and of the vivid image his mind’s eye painted over the backdrop of the forest. He wondered if they could fly, eyes mapping out a route amongst the canopy, smiling idly as he imagined the blue dragon weaving among the trees, keen and watchful. Like a sheriff keeping a vigilant eye on his town. And his loyal, if eccentric deputy by his side.

Ah well. McCree untied his serape, holding it in his hands as he shouldered his way past foliage back into the glade. Hallucination or not, he had missed his opportunity to observe something truly unique, something no one in the world had seen before. Frankly even if he did ever happen upon them again he would most likely end up dying of embarrassment the way he’d left them last time…

Speak of the devil. Looks like he had a few visitors to his base.

The two dragons hadn’t noticed him yet. The blue dragon – _Sheriff Grump_ , McCree couldn’t shake the name from his head – laid neatly coiled on the sand, resting his head on top of folded paws. _Like a cat,_ McCree almost snickered at the comparison. Ripples of water caught his eye from behind the sleeping mass. The green one – _Deputy Greenie_ , his mind continued to supply ridiculous nicknames – over there was floating on his back: the dictionary definition of bliss, if the lolling tongue was any indication. Eccentric, indeed.

McCree stepped forward and cleared his throat. Maybe he _would_ get his second chance.

“Howdy.” Thank the lord, his voice didn’t squeak.

No response except an ear wiggle and a barely opened eye. At least he wasn’t being chased off.

“Didn’t know this place was yours. Mighty fine little hideaway you got here,” he continued, going for a casual tone. “I don’t think I’d be too pleased either to see some strange human stinkin’ up yer water if I were a big strong dragon so I’m awfully sorry ‘bout encroaching on your territory.”

He could definitely tell he had the attention of Deputy, who was sitting up and honing in a stare that was way too attentive for simple curiosity – at least that’s what McCree thought. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to put up with me for a while though, since I’m having no luck finding an easy exit outta this place with my busted arm,” he held it up for emphasis even though there was no visually obvious injury, “But if you really don’t like it I can be outta here in no time and camp somewhere out in the woods…”

He was cut off by a snort from Sheriff. Rousing himself from his nap, the blue dragon looked much more awake. McCree unknowingly held his breath when he caught a glimpse of that gaze, aloof and calm as always yet with a hint of inquisitiveness that McCree could remember seeing the day before, although more distinct this time around. The dragon gave himself a powerful shake and settled into a more comfortable sitting position.

Recovering, McCree chuckled lightly and said, “I guess that means I’m alright.”

An idea hit him, and he closed the distance between him and the dragon, treading slowly and calmly. “I picked up some breakfast on my walk this morning.” Then he lowered his serape in front of the dragon, releasing his hold on the corners and letting the contents show, unfolding it out like a picnic spread.

In addition to the bitter berries, he found out that the occasional vines he passed by held what looked like cherry tomatoes, and found that they were safe to eat. He had picked up as many as he could, since one juicy bite was more than enough to convince him to go out of his way to find more. “Thought we could share?” he asked, hopeful.

Whatever doubts McCree was experiencing in the wake of Sheriff’s hesitance was thoroughly stomped out by the rapid splashes on Deputy’s part. In no time an openly curious face nudged its way around Sheriff’s head, sniffing openly and promptly tugging at the serape’s edge to bring it closer. The green dragon wasted no time in getting comfortable, simply electing to wiggle his long body onto the beach with all the grace of an overly-excited ferret. He didn’t even bother to sit up, content to rest on his side and jab his big feet near Sheriff’s face. Sheriff let out an annoyed grumble, but was otherwise unbothered.

McCree tried very hard to hide his smile, fairly certain that he had gotten through to at least one of them, and plopped down on the other side of the serape. “Eat up,” he announced, plucking up a not-cherry tomato from the pile. Eventually, Sheriff too lowered his head, munching on small well-mannered portions, as opposed to the lively chomping coming from Deputy.

McCree didn’t bother to fill the silence, preferring to categorize what he had learned about the pair so far. They were both so different, yet clearly expressed signs of being quite content in each other’s presence. Used to each other’s mannerisms, no doubt. Still, he hadn’t seen them outside the other’s presence. Did dragons communicate via telepathy? And if so, was the reason they hadn’t reached out to him because of his lack of psychic ability?

McCree scoffed at his far-fetched theory. An even more shocking discovery would be if they turned out to be related. _Now wouldn’t that be ironic._

Lost in his thoughts, his hand accidentally bumped against a rough wet nose as he went for another berry. McCree didn’t even have time to utter an apology before his field of vision was obscured by green and blue scales, almost toppling him over with how insistent they were sniffing at his body.

“What the–” It was a surreal sensation; they were both cool to the touch, yet warm under the skin when McCree held out a hand to steady himself. The dragons, he belatedly realized, were fixated on the wound in his shoulder, scenting it through his shirt. Last he’d checked it had clotted pretty well, even though he had to strain to catch a glimpse of it. Was there blood still leaking through his makeshift bandage?

Whatever he was about to ask got cut short by a series of chirps and growls. The dragons had pulled back, and if McCree had to guess he’d say they were having a pretty serious discussion. For once, Deputy’s hard expression rivaled that of Sheriff’s, accentuated by the numerous faint scars that slashed across the green dragon’s face and upper body. McCree hadn’t noticed them before, and it made his heart grow heavy.

 _Maybe they_ were _related_ , observed McCree, catching the quick looks being thrown in his direction, like they were sizing him up in a new light. Once McCree was certain that they weren’t about to pounce on him like a shark crazed on bloodlust, he relaxed and leaned back on his arms, not even trying to hold in the burst of laughter that came out when Deputy gave a cheeky lick to Sheriff’s mane, making it stick up in a cowlick.

Guess that was the end of that discussion. Judging by how high the sun was already, McCree had spent more time than he allotted himself to this morning’s activities; he really should get going if he wanted to map out the region. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret even a single moment he had with the dragons.

“You know, fellas, I’m flattered that you’re chattering ‘bout my dashing self and all, but there’s plenty of me to go around,” he said nonchalantly, getting up and dusting his clothes off.

The ensuing silence became abruptly awkward, and McCree glanced up when he felt the scrutiny of two pairs of eyes. Deputy’s held a familiar twinkle – one that McCree knew in his gut that he was going to have to be careful about later on – coupled with his signature wide-mouthed grin, leveling a knowing stare at Sheriff.

Who was pretending not to notice, giving a roll of his eyes and returned to grooming his face with a single-minded attitude. He gave a huff of indifference to no one in particular, and then tried to replace his snout on his paws, except he miscalculated and buried it in the sand instead.

If it were up to McCree, he’d almost think the blue dragon was attempting to play it cool.

But instead he shook his head, a bemused expression on his face and resolved not to think on it too hard. “You two sure are a pair...” Brushing off his serape, he threw it around his shoulders and set off into the forest.

______

If there’s one thing McCree is sure of it’s that he’s walked more than enough miles for Angela to stop nagging him about how his smoking habit would only slow him down.

“‘Smoking those cigars will only deteriorate your cardio-whatever endurance, Jesse,’” he imitated the doctor’s good-natured scolding, feeling only slightly bad as he climbed up a particularly treacherous hill. More than once he was grateful for his enhanced arm, the grip strength saving him from slipping down the hillside and resetting his progress. As the day went on he found that he was relying on it more and more to pull himself up rather than depending on his rapidly tiring legs.

“‘I’m a doctor, Jesse…’” The treadmill settings that Angela “prescribed” as soon as he had so much as set foot in her Medical Bay after the Recall were nothing compared to the real deal, which McCree was quickly and unfortunately coming to terms with.

He almost cried with relief when he reached the top, automatically sticking a branch-marker into the ground. This was a good place to make camp, he convinced himself, and sprawled out on the ground with zero hesitation.

After catching his breath, he took a long drink of water and tried once again to activate the GPS signal built into his arm. He blew out a tight breath at the too-familiar red light: expecting nothing, yet still disappointed.

From this vantage point, he could survey only a fragment how much ground he had covered. It was unbelievable how consistently dense the forest remained this far out. His only chances of getting through to a rescue party were climbing trees or finding another exit, and there was no doubt that climbing one of those monstrosities looked nigh impossible. All he had right now were his own two feet and some stubbornness.

McCree sat up, attention more focused now that he was partially rested. On the bright side, this part of the forest held more animals. Taking out Peacekeeper, he counted how many rounds he could spare: not many, but if the sun held up and he stuck to the high ground, his aim would serve him just fine.

That lifted McCree’s spirits, and he took up a crouching position a little ways down the hill. He didn’t know much about hunting – finding trophy hunting unnecessary at best and vile at worst – but he was sure he needed a hunting rifle instead of a revolver that boomed as loudly as a clap of thunder in an echo chamber. He’d only have one chance to pull a kill off before it’d get scared away.

McCree knew there was a lot of waiting involved, but was unprepared for just how much patience was required. It took all of his self-discipline; he waited for what he presumed was thirty minutes, then caved and shifted into a more comfortable prone position – comfort being a relative term. He tried not to think on how much his aim would suffer with a handicap, and the thought of eating berries for three meals a day tightened the grip on his gun.

A deer, some sort of monkey, and a bunch of colorful birds passed his hiding spot but he held his fire until a lizard granted him a perfect shot. Those were edible, right?

He fired. The recoil hit him more than expected. A muscle twinged his sore shoulder blade, grazing the rock the lizard was sun-bathing on, sending chips flying everywhere.

“Dammit!” he groaned in frustration, gaining little satisfaction in the echo he could finally make. That was a stupid mistake. He should have used his left hand – what a rookie mistake. Now he was thirsty, aching all over, and most of all he had nothing to bring back to base.

McCree looked up, dreading more bad news: sunlight was diminishing fast, and visibility had drastically decreased since the afternoon. Even from on top of the hill he could hardly see past the first few markers he had placed.

Damn, time to go.

Though he was physically and mentally exhausted, McCree pushed himself to a jog back the way he came. The adrenaline surging through him and enhancing his senses was welcome, and he took solace in the fact that he didn’t trip even once.

Until the rain started.

There was no warning. In an instant a downpour flooded the forest floor, rain coming down in bulky sheets rather than individual droplets. In seconds no part of McCree was dry, his efforts useless in keeping his arm and Peacekeeper shielded from the rain. Breathing was hard – musty steam hung in the air, dense and viscous, clogging his airways and nose.

McCree’s own thoughts drowned under the intense cacophony, resorting to simply focusing on putting one foot in front of the next until even that failed and he was sent sprawling on the ground, mud caking his body. Dizzy and drained of energy he lay there, unable to relax his muscles, the constant noise filling his senses.

It was getting harder and harder to see. He strained his head up blearily, pushing up weakly on all fours. He had no idea where the blackness ended and where the line of trees started.

Damn trees. He hated this forest. He hated being stuck here.

He lost track of time, motionless and still, cold seeping up through his knees, when a far-off squawk cut through the roar of rain. It came again, and again, and again, until the squawk turned into a trill, which felt like it was right next to his ear. And then a soft blue light entered his vision, and McCree almost cried in relief when he realized it was Sheriff, nudging insistently at his side.

Another trill sounded almost like a question, leveling off into a soothing purr. And that grounded McCree, summoning enough strength to throw an arm around the dragon’s long body, trusting him to lead them back. In the distance was a dull green glow – McCree imagined the green dragon like a beacon of light against the darkness.

McCree did not know how long they traveled, or when the rain stopped, but they finally reached the glade. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to be happy, or to thank the dragons peering worriedly into the cave entrance, dragging his feet on autopilot into the cave and collapsing in a heap, neglecting to do anything except to throw off his clothes and fall into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What we’ve learned here today is that trees are not your friends


	4. Sleeping Dogs Awaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something sinister arises, putting relationships between Jesse and the dragons to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGHHHH I could’ve written this chapter better but I just wanna keep it goinggggg. I'm especially sorry about the ending if it feels rushed, because it was. Still, hope it's up to par!

He felt like hell.

McCree rolled over, trying to find a decent enough position so that he could fall back into sleep without coughing up his lungs. The bed was extra lumpy today – he should’ve known the Overwatch-issued mattresses would come to bite him in the back. Urgh, and quite literally, too.

He rubbed the tight muscles at his back futilely. The heavy pressure on his chest was making certain that it was not going to leave him in peace, though, so McCree rubbed at his eyes. He’d kept his stash of pain meds somewhere in his drawer…

He threw a blind arm out and yawned, failing both actions when he nearly inhaled a mouthful of sand, grimacing at the gritty feeling on his lips. He groaned at the raw feeling in his throat and shivered, prying open grimy eyes. He looked down to see that he was exposed down to his underwear, clothes flung haphazardly in all corners of the cave.

Oh. Right. He was… still here.

As he struggled to stand up against the spinning of his head, the events of last night came to him in flashes. What a shitshow that had been. A mixture of frustration and unease gripped him hard – whatever progress he had made was most likely wiped away by the storm.

Outsmarted by Mother Nature. He sneered in exasperation, irritation peaking. Sometimes it was hard to remember that he was essentially stranded here, no matter how many times this wonderful place made him forget that. He owed much to the dragons that had found him, practically saving him from his own mistakes. And all he had to show for his fruitless efforts was this stupid head cold that could’ve easily been avoided had he been more careful.

McCree stepped out from the cave and into early morning sunlight, wrapped in his still-damp serape. His top priority was to dry his clothes but the loud rumbling in his stomach reminded him of the last time he had eaten, which was more than twenty four hours ago.

He sneezed twice in succession and sniffled, practically glowering at his body as if he could scare it into submission. Nothing he could do about it besides gather firewood and conserve his energy. As much as he hated it, the adventuring would have to wait.

“See, Angela, I can follow instructions…” As much as he griped about her methods, McCree’s heart ached to be back with familiar faces. This impromptu vacation was nice and all – he attempted to convince himself it was just that as he scooped up some dry brush – but he could very well do without the constant need to look over his shoulder or gather food on a daily basis.

He just couldn’t believe it. Jesse McCree was a wanted criminal, expertly evaded bounty hunters and hitmen for most of his life. And he was letting himself get bullied by some _rain_?

He glared at some damp sticks. “A nicely-stocked fridge would be dandy. Ain’t that supposed to be complementary in any half-decent motel…” Another sharp cough interrupted his complaints. Note to self: don’t think about cold things.

Shuffling back to the cave entrance, however, revealed something that wasn’t there before: three rabbit carcasses, freshly killed and skinned, were lying on the sand.

McCree spent an unreasonable amount of concern on the possibility that his mind was being read before a surprised yelp whipped his head up, locking eyes with the wide-eyed stare of Sheriff.

The whole world stood still – then he surged forward and McCree’s arms were filled with a wriggling dragon, snout busying itself with sniffing him all over.

“Hey, hey there, I’m all in one piece!” McCree laughed, feeling much lighter in his companion’s presence, all other thoughts melting away.

He hugged him tightly. McCree felt himself grow heavy with regret at how much he had made Sheriff worry with the incident last night. The dragons must’ve had no way of knowing if he was dead or alive inside that cave, he realized. But he forced that depressing thought down in the face of the dragon’s happiness.

Sheriff eventually settled, letting his large head come to a rest onto McCree’s forehead. “I’m okay,” he repeated, scratching right around the dragon’s antlers and grinning wide at the resonant purr vibrating through his bones. Very warm, noted McCree, even from the slightly awkward angle. His chilled insides were thankful for that.

Sheriff soon parted – quite reluctantly, if McCree’s dragon-reading skills were getting any better – and the reason became clear very easily when McCree spotted a green blur coasting along in the sky, coming to land heavily on the other side of the beach. McCree waved at Deputy, and the warmth in his chest grew as the green dragon quickened his pace, hardly stopping to drop whatever it was in his mouth and indulged in the same greeting as his counterpart, except more enthusiastic.

“Gross,” McCree made a fuss when Deputy gave him a good long lick up his beard. He struggled to smooth it back into place through his cheek-busting smile, then broke into fresh laughter when Sheriff did the same thing.

It was all so strange, a small part of him whispered. So strange, being flanked by two mythical beasts who cared for his health and survival more than most people in his life had. But he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

McCree went back to tending to the small fire, noting with raised eyebrows at the two adult-sized deer Deputy had dropped next to the rabbits. The dragon in question was seated daintily on all fours, waiting with an expectant expression.

“I know I got a healthy appetite, but I think that’s just a bit too much grub for me,” McCree patted his stomach, looking sheepish. “But it’s the thought that counts, so thank you kindly,” he added sincerely.

After the warm welcome time passed by lazily, McCree absorbed in figuring out how to spitroast the rabbit without getting it charred and carefully laying out his clothes to dry by the fireside. The dragons were content to watch, though he was certain his cold didn’t escape their attention, if the shared looks and tilted heads wasn’t evidence enough. McCree had the feeling they weren’t so keen on letting him out of his sight this time. He shook his head in silent amusement. Always causing trouble no matter where he went.

He retrieved his gun and went to work on disassembling it, noting with equal parts pride and relief that the water hadn’t damaged any vital components. The maintenance on his arm took longer, since he was unaccustomed to servicing it for any more than a quick tune-up – life on the road didn’t hold many hazards for a robot arm especially with how careful McCree was, and Torbjorn always did love his trade secrets.

A small squeal caught his attention, and McCree’s heart almost stopped when he saw Deputy scrabbling over to Sheriff, who had closed his eyes in a catnap. Deputy’s jaw was chewing hard on Sheriff’s antlers, claws pawing at his chest for purchase, tail thwacking in a frenzy. McCree was about to intervene when he recognized the long-suffering expression on Sheriff’s face, accompanied by a wide yawn and half-lidded eyes.

Another insistent squeal sounded from Deputy – McCree was certain that was an eye-roll that Sheriff just did – and the blue dragon put up a half-hearted attempt to fight back, swiping passively with his claws and snapping his jaws a good few feet removed from anywhere near his face. Despite that, Deputy drew out a high-pitched yowl and dramatically flopped onto the sand, finishing the performance with a flourish of a tongue lolling out.

McCree snickered at the display. “Yeah yeah, I hear ya, you two are bored watchin’ me fumble around. Frankly, so am I,” he put out the fire and got up, stretching out his sore muscles. “Whaddya say I go to town and pick up some groceries?”

He didn’t need to be a dragon expert to interpret the way Sheriff stepped over him and blocked his path.

“You can come along, too,” he said, lightly patting his side and made his way around the blockade.

The yank at his collar stopped him short, and he was back to staring down those sharp blue eyes. It reminded him of Angela’s own disapproving stare whenever the doctor caught a whiff of his headstrong attitude. “What, can’t a man stretch his legs a little?” What harm was there in going for a little stroll? “Thirty minutes, tops. Then I’ll be right back here before you can say ‘roar,’” he imitated the dragons’ vocalizations, drawing out the sound.

As expected, the blue dragon looked unimpressed. McCree stepped closer and put on a reassured smile. “I promise, I won’t be long,” he said in a lower voice, rubbing up and down his flank in an unconscious gesture. Apart from the disorienting night before, this was the closest he had been to the blue dragon. He was suddenly reminded of his own mortality – he could just as easily be dead as soon as he stepped into this forest, but this dragon chose not to. Instead he let him live.

Instead he had been given trust. And he had not broken it.

“Saddle up, boys,” he gave a hearty laugh, good mood unbroken, and walked off, unable to help smiling wide when the telltale _thuds_ of footsteps followed soon behind.

______

“One, two, catch it, catch it– _Yes_ , score!”

McCree whooped when Deputy caught the not-cherry tomato in his mouth. The green dragon grinned a proud toothy smile, while Sheriff looked like he desperately wanted to face-palm himself. Instead, he settled for a sigh and left the other two to wander up ahead.

McCree readied another berry, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. As promised, he had done nothing strenuous in the twenty minutes they had spent aimlessly wandering the woods. A part of McCree was getting frustrated at the lack of progress he wasn’t making, though that was rapidly weakening the longer he stayed – whether it was the tiredness he was quickly succumbing to as the days passed or the cold, one thing was for sure: he didn’t care as long as he was in good company.

The more time he spent with the dragons was less time spent on getting back home; he knew this, and he knew he was being dumb, yet McCree still kept it pushed to the back of his mind. There were only so many excuses he could make before he’d have to confront the inevitable reality that would end with leaving the dragons behind, and that hurt him more than he was willing to admit.

Deputy again caught the berry, never seeming to tire of the game. Okay, so maybe he was a little at war with himself. The bonds he’d made ran far deeper than anticipated. And as much as it pained him, it was clouding his judgment. Even after trying to reason with himself that he was allowed some attachments after going all those years solo on the road. But he knew he needed to deal with this conflict of interest sooner rather than later.

That was that, then. As soon as they were done here, McCree resolved, he’d push for the dragons’ help in getting out of here, no matter what.

It didn’t make him feel any better.

An impatient noise pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up to see Deputy holding something in his jaws, a calculating look in his eye.

McCree smirked at the unspoken challenge, coming back to the present. He bent his knees, chin held high. At least he would enjoy what he had. “Alright, gimme what you got.”

Deputy flicked his head at an angle. McCree expertly caught the fruit between his teeth. “Hot dang!” He shouted, almost choking on it in boisterous laughter, emotions all the more bittersweet. At least here he didn’t feel the need to keep up appearances – there wasn’t anything more badass than dragons that McCree could top.

…And now his hat was conspicuously missing. That little devil.

McCree opened his mouth to tell off Deputy for distracting him when Sheriff plodded by from behind him, Stetson somehow situated in between his horns. The tanned cloth contrasted nicely against the sparkling blue scales, the profile view highlighting the dragon’s graceful arches and curves. He was clearly preening under the attention, walking past the cowboy and turning to give McCree a wink.

McCree stared for a moment longer then chuckled, though it came out more strangled than he intended. “Ain’t no match for a sly bastard,” he kicked at the dirt under his boots, the sudden bashful feeling growing the longer he was under Sheriff’s intense stare, who seemed keen on watching McCree fumble.

His saving grace coming in the form of Deputy, who batted at Sheriff’s muzzle – presumably to take possession of his hat, but McCree blew out a breath once the focus was shifted away from him. His heart was pounding. Not in fear, but McCree knew, he _knew_ , deep down in his gut, that there was more to these two than met the eye, every interaction drawing him in to them and confirming his instincts. His skin prickled in an electrifying thrill. He was on to it. He was _so close_. There were secrets to this forest, and _damn him_ he wanted to live here forever if it meant unraveling the mystery.

His blood sang a familiar song under his skin, and he closed his eyes to revel in the feeling. It meant more to him than anything else. The dragons meant so much more to him.

McCree’s eyes snapped open. Were _they_ what Talon was looking for–

Something unidentifiable slammed into his right side, sending him sprawling to the ground. There was only one split second of stunned falling before a stinging, searing pain tore a surprised scream out of his throat.

It felt like nothing he had ever experienced before, and that was saying much when taking into account just how much trouble he usually got himself into. The pain originated in his shoulder – that same fucking wound that he thought was just about healed and done for came back with a vengeance, radiating pulses of heat throughout his body. It felt unclean, a metallic taste coating the inside of his mouth, the agony tormenting his senses. Even the slightest movement of his right arm brought on fresh waves.

He fought through the pain and wrenched his eyes open, gaze flicking madly until he locked on to Sheriff poised in front of him in a clearly defensive gesture, hackles raised. His hat lay crumpled on the ground. What had hit him? Was it Talon? Did they finally find him?

His insides turned to ice when Sheriff roared, claws raking at the soft soil as he slowly backed up to protect McCree. His tail touched the downed man, letting out another groan as more spasms dizzied his head.

Sheriff turned around and his demeanor immediately softened, sniffing helplessly as he made low cooing noises. McCree marginally relaxed; the threat wasn’t too bad if Sheriff was willing to turn his back to the enemy.

Gritting his teeth, McCree craned his neck upright to see Deputy watching from the background. Even from this distance McCree could see the green dragon was afraid.

When he took a step towards the pair, he soon found out why – Sheriff roared again, a maw of sharp bared teeth accompanying a long, snarling growl.

_What is wrong with you_ , McCree desperately wanted to yell at Sheriff yet unable to act upon the anger, confusion, concern stirring nauseously within him. His eyes fluttered closed against his will.

When he opened them again the flow of pain didn’t have as much a hold on him, and he could string together a cohesive thought. Grunting, he leaned all his weight for his metal arm to heave himself up, lurching towards the first solid thing that would support him.

Panting hard, he jerked violently when a cool presence settled in beside him. McCree lolled his head to the side, dazedly observing Sheriff kneel towards him. The calm and collected gaze was gone, replaced completely by a distress that was too easy to read on the blue dragon. He bent his head low in wordless assistance.

The green dragon was conspicuously missing but McCree held back on mentioning it, instead following Sheriff’s instructions and mindlessly throwing his uninjured arm over his body. They walked in tense silence, punctuated every so often by McCree’s labored breaths.

When they finally reached the glade, McCree collapsed onto the sand and savored the pleasant chill of the stone cave against his burning body. He tested out moving his arm, hissing when his shoulder blade pinched right in the center of the wound.

Fuck. He should’ve known. He’d underestimated that sniper. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Sheriff was pacing along the length of the beach, covering the distance quickly and looking more and more frustrated with each lap when he bounded over to McCree’s side at the noise.

“Hey, hey, whoa there,” McCree spoke, frowning a little at his raspy voice. The blue dragon was panicking – in his movements, in his eyes. McCree could easily tell; it unnerved him to see such a strong being reacting like this.

“Calm down, I’m fine, everything’s fine,” he continued to whisper anything and everything that crossed his lips, half-muttering phrases, holding the dragon’s gaze, soothing him with constant strokes of his thumb.

That scene wouldn’t stop playing, over and over in his head. His roar… it sounded so terrified. “Why… why did you yell at him?” he asked in the stillness between them, quiet yet wanting answers.

The dragon tried to pull back, and McCree knew he hit the mark. He held him firmly in place, in spite of all the dragon’s strength. “Why did you make him go away?”

Sheriff squirmed in his grip. One of their tails must’ve smacked straight into him, knocked him out, unaware of their strength against such a tiny human. “It was an accident,” he stressed. “I wasn’t lookin’ where I was goin’, and you two seemed to be having so much fun…” It was the only thing that made sense, that provoked Sheriff so easily against his own kin.

“Believe me,” his voice cracked with urgency, “It was an accident.”

The dragon stopped resisting. McCree had a feeling that even if he could understand him he would still be just as closemouthed.

“You gotta apologize.”

McCree was slurring at this point, weariness weighing down his eyelids, yet this needed to be said. “You have to go find your… kin, brother, whatever he is. You gotta apologize.”

“And give him this,” he reached out to grab his hat and thrust it in Sheriff’s face, which he automatically clasped between his lips, question evident in his tilted head.

McCree wagged a clumsy finger. “Yer gonna find him, and yer gonna give him my damn hat that he likes so much. And yer gonna say it’s from you,” he poked at the dragon’s chest, wanting more than anything for his message to be clear. “You hear me?”

The dragon did not move. “Go.” He resorted to pushing him away with what little strength he had left. “What’re you waiting for? Go!”

Eventually, Sheriff took a few steps towards the line of trees. Then stopped and looked back, distress written plainly across his uncommonly expressive face. “I’ll be right here. Ain’t gonna die that quick,” assured McCree with a hoarse laugh. “I can take care of myself. Don’t worry.”

Then, before it looked like any more hesitation would seize him, the blue dragon leapt into the forest the fastest McCree had seen him run.

Many moments passed, blending together with only the sounds of the forest to keep McCree company. Head tipped down to his chest, he took in a few deep, calming breaths, waiting for the dizziness to pass over. He took a drink of water and let it spill past his lips, cooling his heated skin. Steeling himself, he finally peeled off his shirt, dread pooling in his stomach the more he revealed.

Things definitely looked much worse off than he first thought. Surrounding the swollen-red lump on his shoulder branched out sinister purple tendrils, spidering out down his arm and up his collarbone. The area was both numb to any command to move, yet his nerves were on fire with sensation. The impact must’ve triggered the dormant projectile lurking beneath his skin.

His vision doubled and he squeezed his eyes shut, disorientation taking over. _Poison bullets_. McCree was grudgingly impressed at how creative Talon outfitted their terrorists. He flexed his organic fingers, committing the feeling to memory. Maybe this’d be how he’d lose his other arm.

He reached around to grab Peacekeeper from its holster, feeling its familiar weight in an unfamiliar grip.

For the first time in many years it did little to comfort him.

______

Hanzo flew as fast as he could.

The ground whizzed past his vision, his hind legs and arms leaving chunks of soil in his wake, only electing to fly amongst the trees when the impacts only worsened the hammering beat between his temples. Careful not to bite down on the rubbery-soft leather of Jesse’s hat, he dipped and dodged obstacles in his path with sharp reactions, terrifyingly precise without even seeing where he was going. He had the layout of this forest branded into his memory.

He could not remember the last time he felt so helpless.

His limbs may have been on autopilot, but his mind was racing. Genji couldn’t have gone far, he reasoned, honing in on the blip of energy that was his brother. He sped up when it tugged to his left and down into a valley.

It wasn’t really a valley so much as it was a small indent in the earth. Genji’s large dragon body only just squeezed into the space, making Hanzo’s heart clench in tenderness. Though it was unerringly followed by the pressing guilt that still took over, even after all these years.

Shaking that out of his mind, he took a few tentative steps forward. “Genji?” he pushed the word out, feeling the invisible tether of his conscious instinctively connect to his, a familiar process that allowed them to speak and feel what the other was feeling.

And right now Hanzo was feeling many emotions through the shallow bond: anger, hurt, conflicting snatches of thoughts. Hopeful surprise when Hanzo made his entrance, before it was dashed away as the green dragon huffed and shifted position, back still turned.

Hanzo was more than tempted to leave him be, shame and guilt permeating his thoughts. But he forced himself to sit down, remembering Jesse’s words and vowed to wait, no matter how much he felt he was not worthy for Genji’s forgiveness.

He had promised to himself that he would try, for Jesse’s sake.

“How is the human?” Genji finally asked.

Hanzo shifted awkwardly. “He is… not doing well.” He leaned forward hesitantly. “Something is wrong with him, brother. He needs our help–”

“Oh, so now he needs _our_ help?” Genji whirled his head around. “I thought you didn’t need my help.”

The flash of betrayal Hanzo spotted in his eyes made him flinch, even though he could see that Genji immediately regretted his outburst. They both knew what they were thinking – even after all the agonizing years since that fateful day, it was still too soon to see those same emotions stare back at him. His brother, refusing to leave his side, working so hard to mend the damage he had caused, seeing all that progress vanish in a single afternoon, all over a misunderstanding. All over some… _human_ that had trespassed onto their territory.

He was lucky it didn’t escalate, that he hadn’t resorted to violence, that Genji had ran away before it got worse. That _he_ got worse. He wanted to hang his head in shame. He wanted to bury his head and never see the light of day again. He deserved all of Genji’s anger.

But then he met Genji’s gaze with his own, “I was… I was such a fool, Genji. I _am_ a fool. I should have never lost my temper like that.” He recoiled, disgusted with himself. “No amount of time will dull how much pain I inflict on those around me. Have I not learned anything?”

Emotions and memories he refused to revisit for so long finally bubbled up, a mournful whimper caught in his throat. He remembered Jesse’s words, and how the human exceeded his expectations each passing day. Jesse had seen the pain behind his inhuman eyes. He was more perceptive than Hanzo had given him credit for. Deep down, he had known as soon as that human had stepped foot into the forest – the winds of change had altered his fate right then and there.

This time he let his head hang limp, exhausted beyond belief over just a select few powerful words. Genji said nothing. So many things had happened within the span of an afternoon; it was too hard to keep up. He needed to rest. They remained like that, the quiet of the forest prevailing.

Eventually Hanzo stepped back, struggling to regain some semblance of control. The roles were reversed – it felt like _he_ was the little brother, trying to apologize for committing an unspeakable act.

And he was, in a way. He should not have lost his composure like that, back in the forest, and taken it out on someone so dear to his heart. He had already done that once.

He didn’t think he could bear to let history repeat itself a second time.

“You have, Hanzo.”

Genji’s voice cut through his crowded thoughts. “You have learned so much. You’ve _changed_ so much. I have lived by your side in this forest for decades, Hanzo. Believe me when I say this: you are not the same being who was once consumed by strife.”

Hanzo looked at his brother. The hunched posture and haggard expression aged him far beyond his years, the green dragon’s scrutiny wise under his healed scars. Just how much had his brother had gone through for him?

How could he have been so blind?

Hanzo swiped up the long-forgotten hat from the ground and crowned it onto Genji – preoccupied in setting it just right, throat choked with emotions he hadn’t dare given the chance to spill in a long while. It was a truce, a penance for Hanzo’s past transgressions, the small act asking for forgiveness without words. He stared up, hoping Genji would understand.

The green dragon, for his part, watched, expression unreadable. Then, he lifted his snout with his typical cockiness, “So you admit that it looked better on me all along.”

The blue dragon blinked, before he gave a responding long-suffering sigh, which petered off into a breathless laugh. “Yes, I suppose I do admit it. It is yours,” he graciously accepted defeat, an invisible weight lifting off his shoulders, “although I suppose the original owner will have some words with you about that.”

The pair grew somber at the mention of Jesse. “You said he was not doing okay.” Genji leapt into the air, waiting for Hanzo to fall into formation. “How bad is he?”

“I don’t know,” Hanzo admitted and followed him up, more shakily than usual. “I only know that he seems to be stable, for now. I don’t know how much I can help him.”

“Brother, we will find a way, together,” Genji stressed, sensing his distress. “I am fond of him, too.”

They flew in silence for most of the trip. Doubts began to plague his mind. How much time had passed since he left Jesse? Had he made a mistake in leaving him alone? Were humans tenacious enough to survive some time by themselves?

“Not as fond of him as you are, though.”

The teasing voice took a second to penetrate Hanzo’s worried thoughts, and he automatically sent a glare to Genji before he averted his face in embarrassment. “Really, Genji? Now, of all times?” his rumbling groan echoed throughout the forest. He had never been this mentally drained before, and Genji was not helping.

“Hey, he seems to return the sentiment.” The unfortunate thing was that Hanzo could _hear_ his eyebrows waggling suggestively. “Remember that time he showed up in our lake absolutely naked?”

“Yes, I remember…”

“And that strange metal arm! Damn it, I wanted to pick it up, you lousy, glory-stealing brother!”

Hanzo took the little shove at his side with a gracious upturn of lips. He hadn’t really paid much notice to it before, but it felt good to hear his brother laugh.

It was a start, but they would brave any hardship, endure anything – as long as they were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the cheeeeeese in that last section but I do love me some brotherly bonding
> 
> I mention mercy so much each chapter that I should just put her in the tags xD I like to imagine her's and Jesse's interactions seeing as how they do get along despite them being so obviously contrasting


	5. Not Like This.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragons check up on Jesse since their fight, in high spirits despite grave circumstances. Can they help the human before it is too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. Chapter five here, about a million years late to the party so I wrote an extra long chapter for your troubles *thumbs*
> 
> Someone last chapter commented that they had fanart (EYES EMOJI) but I still haven’t heard from them yet (EYES EMOJI!!!!!). Or maybe I’m just bad at social media and I completely missed the notification BUT REGARDLESS send it to me again cuz I WANT SO BADLY to stare at it and bawl my eyes out!!!!! If that’s you (or anyone else!!) go to americanpendu on tumblr or @AmericanPendu on twitter (preferably the tumblr)

“I should have known you would be here.”

Hanzo looked down from his perch. Genji sat neatly on all four paws at the base of the towering tree, looking up at his older brother with typical youthful inquisitiveness. He fidgeted impatiently. “Mind if I join you?”

Hanzo didn’t answer, mind clearly on different things. Either way, he wasn’t given a chance to respond before the green dragon leapt up and squeezed himself onto the tree branch Hanzo was settled on, shaking the leaves that let in a little of the early afternoon sunlight. Apart from grunting in mild irritation Hanzo took no notice of his antics, keeping his gaze straight ahead and unwavering.

Genji dropped something by his muzzle: a few dead carcasses of boar. “I brought you something to eat,” he explained. “When you didn’t come back from your usual rounds this morning, I thought you might be here. You must be hungry.”

Genji nosed at his neck to get his attention. When no response was forthcoming he blew out a huff of air, snorting audibly. Then he placed down a bundle of stems, flowers still attached to the ends. “Look! I foraged for some of those tasteless things you like so much,” he put some enthusiasm behind his words, injecting his voice with the cheek that he knew needled Hanzo to no end, hoping to get some sort of familiar reaction out of him. “Just so you know, I have been awake since dawn trying to secure the best bunches. So no, I was _not_ lazing away like you normally accuse me of doing.”

Hanzo shot him a quick glance. And then Genji finally heaved a heavy sigh, mood sobering. “Hanzo, you cannot torment yourself like this. The human will come out soon.”

Hanzo’s frown deepened, a tinge of apprehension showing through his impassive demeanor. “You have been awake since last night, haven’t you? I can see how tired you are, please, brother–”

“Genji, please, I can survive without a few hours of rest,” Hanzo finally spoke, snapping despite his best efforts to hold it in.

Genji’s deep scowl showed that he was displeased but he reluctantly fell silent, mirroring his brother’s position. Hanzo, for his part, turned to train his gaze back onto the pristine beach.

The strange exhaustion from yesterday was still clinging to his bones, but despite what he told Genji his body would not let him rest without being near Jesse’s presence. He had strained to hear any movement inside the cave, but even with his enhanced senses all he detected were the irregular shiftings of sand. He must still be alive, Hanzo concluded, but it was past midday and Jesse had yet to emerge ever since he crawled in last night – looking worse for wear when Hanzo had returned with Genji in tow but still yet stable.

And yet, the itch would not go away, the fatigue unresolved. Hanzo felt culpable, yes; but this man proved his worth, his honor, showed compassion and kindness when all the human should’ve felt was fear in their presence. His claws scraped at the bark below him, scoring deep gashes, muscles restless. The human didn’t deserve to die without a fighting chance. And if Hanzo could help…

Hanzo was already halfway down the tree when Genji called out after him, snaking past the trees and skimming just above the surface of the sand as he alighted to a heavy stop on the beach, resting warily on all fours. Approaching the mouth of the cave, Hanzo lowered his massive head to peer through the abrupt darkness.

He didn’t stop to think upon his actions, to answer Genji’s questions. Now that he was close, all he could focus on was Jesse.

When the pitch blackness refused to let up, however, he pulled back in frustration. The cave was much too small and narrow to fit his dragon body in, let alone look after Jesse in any way at all.

It wasn’t a hard decision to make at all, really, Hanzo supposed, as he closed his eyes against the familiar sensation of distortion, the feeling of stretched skin tingling over his rapidly shrinking body. In seconds he was standing on his own two human feet.

“Ow–!” And then winced when Genji’s hard snout poked him in his sore back, turning to see the green dragon level a stare that was equal parts astonished and outraged.

“I am going inside,” Hanzo waved him off, ignoring the implications of his action. After years of constantly scolding his little brother to maintain his dragon form as much as possible – for purely practical purposes, of course – here he was, voluntarily exposing his human form.

At least, that’s what Hanzo presumed Genji was thinking, if the one whiny roar was anything to go by.

Without a second thought Hanzo pushed forward, ducking into the entrance. The noises outside muffled as he ventured deeper, the light at his back fading away ever so slowly. Hanzo grew more and more somber. It was too silent…

He took one more step, when a voice rang out, “Who’s there?”

Hanzo’s heart jerked to a stop. That voice – it was Jesse’s! His eyes widened, desperately trying to find the source, until he noticed a shadowy outline sitting up against the wall. But when he moved again:

“Don’t come any closer,” the voice came again, harsher, this time accompanied by the _click_ of a gun.

It sounded gravelly, like it was hard for the human to speak, but the words still came to a shock to Hanzo. Really, he should not have been so surprised – of course Jesse would be cautious; after spending days in complete isolation from civilization, it was more than suspicious to lay eyes on another human. Still, irrational as it was, Hanzo thought he would recognize…

 _No,_ he shook out that unhelpful thought. _Focus on Jesse._ “I am unarmed,” he played along.

“Good. You know how this game goes.” Despite the strong front, Hanzo could hear the low cracks in his accent. “Now, answer my questions. How did you get in this forest? Who’re you working for? How many of you–”

“Jesse, please, calm down. I will answer all of your questions. But first I must help you. You are hurt–”

“And just how the _fuck_ do you know that?” Now that Hanzo’s eyes had mostly adjusted he could make out a hunched figure leaning heavily on a small rock outcropping, propped up by his left side. One arm hung limply across his lap, while his left hand was loosely curled around his gun, aiming in Hanzo’s general direction. He looked horrible, Hanzo observed, from what little he could see, noticing the unwashed hair and heavy breathing. But most of all, the unsteady way Jesse rolled his head towards him made Hanzo’s stomach clench in alarm. “You a spy?”

Hanzo only had to contemplate for a moment before breaking an oath that he himself had created and sworn to abide by. “You have met the green and blue dragons of this forest, yes? Well,” he stood up a little straighter, “I am one of them.”

The silence lasted longer than he thought it would. Though he didn’t know what to make of the wheezing laugh followed by a quiet “dragons, huh…”

“Do you not believe me? Look,” Hanzo pointed with newfound enthusiasm towards the front of the cave, where Genji was currently trying to fit his head in an effort to see what was taking him so long. “There is the green dragon!”

The more he ran his mouth, the more ancient and timeworn secrets Hanzo was practically unveiling on a silver platter.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to care, though, because right on cue Genji gave a hearty roar and Jesse sat up straight. “Fuckin’ hell,” he whispered, dropping the point of his gun into his lap.

The tension in Hanzo’s posture fled immediately. “Do you trust me now?” A nod from Jesse. “Will you allow me to accompany you outside so that I can help you?” Another slower nod, and then only a small delay when he holstered his gun.

Hanzo rushed forward when he tried to stand up, staggering a bit when holding him upright. Jesse sunk into his grip, all loose limbs and dead weight despite the fact that not even a minute ago he was pointing a gun to his face. Hanzo felt oddly comforted now that the human was in his arms, a strange relief running through his limbs. All that time spent looking on from afar, that barrier of communication still yet unbroken. Now, finally, Hanzo could _do_ something to help.

They walked out into the sun, painstakingly slow. Jesse craned his head to squint up at Genji. “Hey… didn’t you say there were two dragons?”

Hanzo set him down against the stone wall, touching the back of his hand to the human’s forehead, and took a moment to really examine Jesse in the daylight. He was running hot, a sheen of sweat covering what little skin he hadn’t bundled up in the layers of flannel and serape, bleary eyes and a dopey smile confirming Hanzo’s worst fears; he was delirious, and probably had been so since yesterday’s events.

He squatted next to Jesse’s outstretched legs, putting on a tight smile. “Yes, you remember correctly. I am the second dragon. This is just my human form.”

Again, Jesse gave that huff of disbelief, but Hanzo let go of the small gripe. For now, he had to get all these layers off of Jesse to inspect the wound.

He leaned into Jesse, unwrapping the serape wound snugly around his shoulders. Jesse hardly roused, head lolled forward resting on his chest.

As Hanzo neatly folded up the serape, Jesse spoke up. “Where’s m’ hat…”

Hanzo looked up, straining to hear. “My hat,” Jesse said again, a little insistent. “‘S too bright.”

With a start, Hanzo caught the squinting, pinched frown on the human’s face before it dipped down again, trying to find some respite from the rapidly intensifying afternoon sunlight. Hanzo turned a sharp look at Genji, a little more forceful than necessary, upon whose head was clumsily perched the hat in question. The green dragon gave a sheepish mewl.

Sighing resignedly, Hanzo cast a glance around the glade. “Go fetch some of those palm fronds,” he jerked his chin towards the waterfall that housed a nice crop of leaves that were more than large enough to provide shade.

In a flash, Genji flew up and snapped off a few of the humongous leaves at the stem, happily helping Hanzo stick them into the sand. Jesse soon relaxed under the temporary canopy. “Thank ya kindly…”

Genji still looked antsy, Hanzo noted, watching the way his tail thwacked and swished sand particles into the air, the impish light in his eyes dimmed considerably by carefully hidden worry. Even so, his brother surprised him yet again when he was able to sense the quiet distress radiating from Hanzo, timidly resting his large head on his shoulder, blinking solemnly at Jesse. They watched creased lines take form on Jesse’s pale forehead, labored breathing punctuating the space between them; still the human was blissfully unaware of the turmoil waged in front of him.

Hanzo patted the green dragon’s snout, pushing down the sudden clench of affection that tightened his stomach. “I think he should be hungry by now,” he murmured into the heavy air. He turned a thin smile to Genji – a flimsy façade, but he needed to be strong for his little brother. “Why don’t you go get some food while I examine the wound closer, hm?”

He knew from experience that Genji needed something to do in order to distract him, so it didn’t surprise him that he glided away without his usual bickering. Hanzo watched him disappear into the forest, then turned his attention back to Jesse.

Scooting forward, he began to unbutton the dark-red plaid shirt: soft, agreeing to his fingertips. He had lost count of how many times it had happened, but once again that strange, wonderful warmth whenever he was with Jesse began to bloom in his chest. He hardly knew what it meant, only that it increased in intensity with each occurrence.

But… it felt right. It felt right, and it felt wrong – it felt like it was telling him to break this cycle of self-inflicted torment, to do what his heart wanted to do, to learn more about this strange, charismatic human, to be free of this forest. But Hanzo couldn’t do that. He didn’t deserve it. He threw away that chance when he turned on his brother.

Could he, though? For the first time in ages, that unforgiving voice was being overpowered.

A deep laugh broke him from his thoughts. “Tickles…”

Hanzo shot his head up to meet hooded eyes staring sleepily back. Too late he realized his hands had abandoned their work on the buttons, instead preferring to stroke idly across the expanse of Jesse’s chest, the creamy fabric too enticing to his senses.

Caught red-handed, he returned his hands to his lap. “I apologize. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, contrite.

Jesse gave a huge yawn, taking his time in replying. “‘S fine.”

After a short beat Hanzo filled Jesse in, “I need to take off your clothing in order to see the extent of your injury. May I?”

When Jesse took even longer to say anything Hanzo was beginning to think he’d offended him – until a wide, bright smile broke out. He laughed that deep laugh again, the one that twisted Hanzo’s stomach into pleasant knots. “Yer a bold one, ain’tcha? Was hopin’ you’d get to treatin’ me to dinner first…”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, a smile eventually coaxed out of his bemused expression. “You are a silly human,” he settled, and went back to work on the buttons, trying his best not to get distracted by the solid warmth underneath his palms.

Jesse had politely sat upright to give Hanzo extra room, though it wasn’t very much. He found himself going slow anyway. Soon he unbuttoned the last one, revealing the snug black undershirt that he had been walking around in since he got here. He wondered what that would feel like under his palms, too.

“I need you to extend your arm,” Hanzo instructed, simultaneously tilting Jesse’s torso forward so that he could slip it off. Even though he did not use much strength at all Jesse thumped his forehead into Hanzo’s collarbone, utterly drained of energy despite resting most of the day away. Luckily it was an easy task to maneuver the flannel around him. He folded it and put it next to the serape.

The next shirt would prove to be more difficult. Hanzo ineffectually plucked at it – he might have to find something sharp to cut through it so he wouldn’t aggravate the wound further…

“Ah…”

A shaky hand lifted his chin upwards to meet caramel-brown eyes, swirled with flecks of something darker. They lit up in recognition, an easy half-smile forming on his lips. It was absolutely mesmerizing.

“It really _is_ you. The blue dragon,” when Jesse spoke it was with reverence, “Your eyes… Don’t think I’d ever forget what it was like being glared at by those.”

The touch of cool metal on Hanzo’s chin might as well have felt like fire. “I am glad you believe me,” was all he could say.

Jesse pinned him with an enamored stare, thumb drawing back and forth, catching on the curve of Hanzo’s lips – intentional or not, he couldn’t tell. “‘Course I do. Ain’t never seen a more grumpy dragon, either. You’re so…” he puffed out a wheezing laugh, “heh, yer still so grumpy-lookin’.”

That was what it took to finally break the spell, and Hanzo leveled his best scowl in automatic reaction to that accusation. Which only served to prove Jesse’s point, utterly tickled as he was already, the fingers falling back into his lap. Hanzo felt the loss keenly.

“Hanzo!”

The high-pitched cry rang across the stillness of the beach, followed up by three muffled thuds on the sand.

Genji jumped down from the branch he was perched on, obnoxious orange scarf fluttering in his wake as he landed next to the boar carcasses now lying in the sand. “Can you give me a hand with these?”

The busy work was good for Hanzo in clearing some of the stress built up in his muscles: collecting firewood, skinning the meat, preparing it to cook. Jesse dozed off once again – the number of times it kept happening grew disquieting. Hanzo refused to entertain the notion if there would come a time that he would be opening his eyes no more.

“You need to stay awake.” He didn’t feel bad for waking him up when he fed him the berries Genji had collected, though he had to believe the soured face Jesse made had to be nothing but ridiculous exaggeration.

Genji took a seat beside them, handing off two flasks: Jesse’s, filled with fresh water, and Hanzo’s sake. “I figured you could use the pick-me-up,” he added with a small smirk, then bowed his head towards Jesse in greeting, “I am Genji. I wish we could have met under better circumstances, my friend.”

“So yer the rascal who stole my hat.”

“Um, excuse me?” Genji made the mistake of leaning forward before he got tugged down into a surprisingly firm grab: Jesse’s arm circled around his shoulders, a metal hand ruffling his hair, knocking the hat off-kilter. “H-Hey, human! This hat is mine now!”

The laughter from Genji sounded as if it had been held back for so long, bursting with energy. It swelled Hanzo’s heart in equal parts happiness and guilt.

“Heh, I’m just pokin’ fun,” Jesse soon relented, adding on with an easy affection, “It suits ya. Least it hides yer silly grass-green hair.”

Hanzo held back a snort of amusement, hiding a self-satisfied smile behind his hand. “Finally, someone agrees with me.”

Hanzo shuffled forward, ignoring Genji’s outcry (“neither of you can ever come _close_ to comprehending my vastly superior fashion sense”) and instead addressed Jesse. “Can you lift your arms?” He curled his fingers under the hem of his t-shirt.

“Be careful, Jesse,” Genji stood up to help guide his movements, but his face turned sly, “I think Hanzo may have ulterior motives that have less to do with your clothes, if you know what I mean,” looking outrageously stupid when he tried winking suggestively with both eyes.

Hanzo’s face grew hot under the glare he threw his brother. “Shameless,” he choked out, hands faltering in their progress.

But Jesse only laughed heartily, looking Hanzo directly in the eye, “I don’t mind one bit, darlin’.”

“That should do it,” Hanzo gave one last tug to pull off the shirt, feeling ganged up on with Genji’s silliness and Jesse’s willingness to play along – but as absurd he could be, Genji was doing wonders in brightening the mood. For a brief instant, Hanzo almost felt like things were normal.

That is, until he followed the faint purple welts wrapped around Jesse’s shoulder and redness spreading down his back. The two brothers examined the damage closer: embedded deep within the muscle was an inflamed indent swollen to the size of his thumb. Broken skin surrounded the area as if it were still freshly inflicted, inflamed to the touch. A small object was lodged in the center of the mess: something silver, shiny, metallic, a rounded edge poking out around red-rimmed, unhealed skin.

Genji’s face grew dark, a silent rage simmering beneath his eyes. “Poison,” he uttered, low and dangerous. “A cowardly weapon. We must remove it before it harms him any further,” he became the voice of reason.

Hanzo could only nod in agreement, a peculiar emotion closing his throat. His hands squeezed into tight fists. “Restart the fire.”

Genji obeyed without hesitation, knowing exactly what to do. Jesse had dozed off early on during their inspection, belly full from a good meal. “Drink,” Hanzo pressed his sake bottle to Jesse’s lips, curling his hand to support his neck with gentle pressure, hating what he had to do next.

As soon as the sake touched his tongue Jesse made a pleased sound, oblivious to Hanzo’s conflicted mood. “Mmm, that is… sweet, but I like it. Wish I had some of my whiskey to share with you,” he somehow managed to muster enough energy to send him a weak wink.

Instead of putting him at ease, the well-meaning gesture made Hanzo feel all the more worse. “You seem to have experience with receiving battle wounds,” he glanced at Jesse’s holstered gun, “and have dealt your own fair share, I suspect.”

“Heh, ain’t that the truth and then some.”

Hanzo smiled thinly at Jesse’s preening, then swallowed down his own sip of sake when he saw Genji approach them, a pair of heat-treated sticks in hand, rounded at the tips.

Genji made to ask, “Brother, perhaps I should…” but was cut off when Hanzo swiped at the sticks, a cool stare set in place.

“You should keep the human occupied,” Hanzo did his best to keep his voice level. “You are very good at distractions,” he added with a small knowing smile.

Jesse was laid down on his front, resting on his unfolded serape spread out on top of the sand. Hanzo sat looming over Jesse, tools in hand.

“This is going to hurt, my friend,” Genji said softly, clasping the metal hand in his own.

“Hunh…” A vaguely serene hum came from Jesse, muffled under his cheek.

Whether Jesse was ready or not, Hanzo did not delay any longer. He dove in with the makeshift tweezers, focus unerring against the shocked gasps and spasms of muscle underneath his splayed palm. Uneven scabs had developed across the injury, limiting most points of entry. Blood oozed freely where he prodded. Genji mopped where it pooled to clear the view, although a few drops still managed to stain the serape.

Finally Hanzo got a hold of the projectile stubbornly lodged, clinging desperately at his skin. He pulled it free. Jesse gave a final groan, stiffened, then sank limply onto the serape, spent.

“Rest now, Jesse,” he heard Genji soothe the human, but the words faded into obscurity, as if the distance between them was too far. Hanzo rolled the object in the sand to clean off the debris, mindless in his actions. He stared at it – a wicked, mocking thing, purple liquid sloshing inside the half-filled core: so small in size yet capable of such destruction. His sight grew hazy, a fiery hate festering in his gut. He wanted to crush it.

He narrowed his eyes, unchanneled fury swiftly taking hold. He wanted to use the might of his mystical powers, use every last drop – to destroy this _thing_ and find the one responsible for hurting Jesse and torture them for eternity. He would–

“Hanzo.”

Genji opened up his clenched fist, cool fingers sliding under his grip, uncurling white-knuckled ones. He plucked up the weapon, storing it in Jesse’s pocket. “This might tell us something about his condition. It would be wise to keep it intact, just in case.” Genji met his gaze, the look in his eyes softening considerably. “We’ve done all we can, brother. You should rest, as well.”

Slim hands squeezed over his own, and all at once Hanzo felt the fatigue finally catching up. He nodded, dazed, the hands at his shoulders guiding him to lay down, suddenly disinclined to move anywhere else.

He heard the sound of sand parting under Genji’s footfalls until they disappeared back into the forest. Tucking his arm under his head, Hanzo watched Jesse’s sleeping form occupying the other half of the serape: completely unconscious, with a fresh sheen of sweat covering his face, his lips slightly parted, every exhale rough and ragged. A few strands of hair were plastered to his forehead. Hanzo smoothed them back as gently as he could.

He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until he opened his eyes to fading sunlight and the low sounds of whimpering reaching his ears. Disoriented by fitful sleep, Hanzo moved closer to the sound.

“No… no, don’t…”

The sight that greeted him was upsetting to his sleep-blurred mind; Jesse couldn’t keep still, rolling to and fro in aborted motions. His right arm twitched restlessly, out of his control.

“No, you can’t… You can’t take…”

“Jesse? Jesse, calm down,” Hanzo called out.

“Have’ta find them, I…I…”

“Shhh, shhhhh. Be still, Jesse. It’s okay,” said Hanzo, in a tone that he’s never used before, quiet and pleading and filled with a promise that everything will better next time he opens his eyes but he knew that was a lie. He did not know what to do. He did not know what to do, and it was tearing him apart to sound so sure about something that might never turn out to be true. The one human he truly cared for – all his powers, all his experience, all his might: it was for naught. First Genji, and now Jesse?

“Everything is going to be okay,” he quietly said, careful not to let his voice betray any of his thoughts.

Something warm rested on his outstretched hand, almost crushing it in its frail strength. Hanzo looked up, startled out his spiraling thoughts, only to be trapped by Jesse’s bleary gaze. “You need to… you need to get outta here,” he gasped, seemingly using all his stamina to get his point across. “They’re gonna come back. Gonna take you, experiment on you. S’not safe, Hanzo. Please, you n’ Genji. Talon will...”

He trailed off into a moan, scrunching his face in pain. Still, Jesse tugged at Hanzo’s hand, laying it on his cheek. He cupped it on reflex.

“I’m sorry, I… I’m… so sorry for being such a burden,” The words spilled out, as if Jesse knew how little time he had. “‘m just some damn human who tripped his way into yer woods, fuckin’ up your lives, fuckin’ it all up, everythin’…”

“Jesse. Jesse, please,” whispered Hanzo, each repetition of his name a balm on his soul. “Jesse, do you hear me? You are not a burden. You never were.” He brought their foreheads together, an electrifying touch. “You are the best thing that has happened to me. Believe it to be true.”

It seemed to be working. Jesse began to calm down. “I have met many humans in my lifetime, Jesse, and none are as memorable as you. And dragons live for many years. We do not forget so easily.”

Jesse blinked slowly, trying his best to focus. “Other humans?”

Hanzo smirked in the space between them, seeking to regale him with memories as a distraction. “Lowly life-forms. All of them, trespassing into our forest. Hunters who caught wind of our existence, seeking to cut us down with their measly weapons. Pah! I could take them all on in my human form and then some.”

“No, they deserved a less dignified death.” The smirk turned into a full-blown toothy grin. “So I just ate them instead.”

His plan worked, and after Jesse got over his silent chuckling, he went on to clarify, “They weren’t even that appetizing. The armor got in the way. Hmph. They rank of misplaced arrogance, as if slaying a dragon would bring them fame and fortune… hmm, more likely the fame. It’s not like I have any secret ‘fortune’ that the legends traditionally speak of.”

“Genji, though,” he paused, savoring the way Jesse was captivated, the pain lines a little less prominent than before, “he has a few possessions that he considers to be worth hoarding. He is quite sentimental sometimes.”

The mention of Genji sobered him. “He is all I have left.”

The next words came so quiet Jesse would have to strain to hear if they hadn’t been so close. “It is my fault. I did not know my own strength, how powerful I truly was, what powers I could wield. When I learned of what I had done, I…”

“I’ve done unspeakable things to him. And yet he still thinks I am worthy of redemption. I retreated to this forest in my exile. And he followed, refusing to leave my side ever since. After all this time…”

“He looks up to you, you know. He’s so proud of you.” Jesse sounded so sure. Hanzo desperately wanted to believe him.

“Have you seen the scars on his body?” Hanzo implored. “You weren’t there. You didn’t experience the pain I caused first-hand, it was I who…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He swallowed hard. “I am _dangerous_. This is who I really am. You _must_ know. What I’ve done in the past–”

“Is in the past.”

“Everyone I care for, they all suffer in my presence. It is my curse. Genji is proof. You are proof.”

“You’ve never hurt me.”

“Damn it, Jesse, I don’t want to lose you, too!”

Hanzo felt the dryness of lips pass over his face. Something wet dampened his cheek. He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“I can’t bear to lose another one I love. Not again.”

Their lips met.

The walls he had built around him fell apart with a final crash of warmth, cracking the crumbling structures. A rush of love – true, honest _love_ – poured through the kiss. A million realizations clicked into place: Genji had loved him, _still_ loved him, chipping away at his fortress for so many years, believing in him when he himself could not. Jesse loved him, loved him for who he was – despite his failures as a dragon, as a human, as a brother, yet saw that he was _trying_ : trying his best to rebuild himself, forsaking the shackles of his past.

He couldn’t stop his hands from roaming: the soft cloth under his palms, the rugged beard, the unwashed hair: committing the feeling, the realization to memory – to remember this feeling, remember this moment. To never let go as he had once before.

“Don’t leave me,” begged Hanzo.

Their twined hands grew a little less firm. “I’ll always be with you. I promise.”

It was a promise they both knew was impossible to keep. But they chose to believe that perfect promise – and in that moment, their hearts were content.

______

Jesse was not getting better.

The next twenty four hours were an excruciating ordeal. A part of Hanzo was hoping against hope that when they had removed the weapon the poison would begin to flush out of Jesse’s system, to return that spark of life and charming wit back to his lovely, crinkled eyes. Hanzo stayed by his side, waiting for him to come back, to talk to him – _truly_ talk to him, to explore these strange new feelings.

But the hours grew long and Jesse grew worse for wear, succumbing to feverish shivers and restless nightmares. Jesse was slipping from his grasp, slowly, painfully. Deep down, he could feel it.

Some moments Jesse would stare at Hanzo, eyes half-lidded, the most beautiful smile lighting up his tired features. And Hanzo could never resist sinking into his embrace, granting him the kisses, the touch, the support that they both needed: _he was alive_ , was Hanzo’s only thought. “I love you,” Jesse would say with his ragged breaths, the only words he could say aside from pained groans, deep in delirium.

Other moments he looked so pale, purple veiny webs visible down to his wrist, creeping up his fingers. He had lost almost all movement of his arm sometime deep in the night. Hanzo would sit by his side, trying to rub feeling back into his fingers. Sometimes, Jesse’s fingers curled back.

And then Jesse would sleep, and those moments were the worst. Whether he was prepping food, maintaining the fire – Hanzo would always, _always_ have to do a double-take: so still, so lifeless, propped up against a tree or outside the stone cave, one step away from resembling a corpse, still fresh with warmth. There was a deep, desperate need inside Hanzo, to make sure the life hadn’t left his body when he wasn’t looking, as if his vigilant stare could stop death itself from taking Jesse away from him.

All it would take was one moment, and he would be gone. And Hanzo didn’t know if he could endure suffering that loss once again.

He ran a thumb over the green light on Jesse’s metal arm, a strange circular symbol flashing like a beacon. Genji lay coiled on his other side, fast asleep, clutching his hat like a lifeline. The human’s life was in the hands of the two dragons – but they had done all they could.

Hanzo closed his eyes, joining them in slumber, settling his palm under the steady beat of Jesse’s heart.

“I love you, too,” Hanzo whispered into the night.

Jesse slept on.

______

There was a disturbance in the forest.

Hanzo was on his feet, grabbing his bow and nocking it without a second thought. He let the blood rushing in his ears guide his aim. Nothing but the wind stirred the trees…

There it was again: it thrummed deep within his bones.

Harnessing the power of the dragon he soared into the sky, extending the reach of his senses, far out into the forest: there was the forest, going about its routine, teeming with life. And then there was Genji, a steady, inquisitive beat of energy, not too far from his location. And then… and then…

His eyes snapped open. _Humans._

A snarl worked its way up his throat, mingling with nauseating acid, lips ready to part in a threatening roar that would consume the forest in fear. How _dare_ humans come and invade his domain – when he needed more than ever to be alone in his sorrow? Bloodlust ran like fire in his veins. He reared up, ready to unleash his message–

“Brother! You have to come see this!”

Genji’s enthusiastic voice echoed through his mind, a startling contrast to his indignation. He responded impatiently, making his intentions clear, “Do you not sense the humans defiling our land? We must wipe them out–”

“Yes, yes, the humans! I think they are looking for Jesse!”

His heart stopped. “Are you certain?”

Genji met him halfway, speeding seamlessly through the forest, skimming high among the treetops. Far below their vantage point, they peered down at the three humans, none of which remotely resembled anything they had seen before.

Two of them were flying: or rather, the one in clad in clunky blue armor was flying, clutching a long-barreled object with practiced ease, while the winged one gripped a sleek staff and pistol, gliding angelically close behind. The third human, a mix of brown and blue hues, was on the forest floor, keeping up a decent pace in front of the two; they controlled a strange, blue bike that hovered smoothly over the uneven terrain, planes of glass-like material shifting across its surface, like see-through solid light.

The two dragons could smell the tension in their wake. They tailed the group, soundless, easily escaping detection. The one on the bike frequently looked down at a readout. A small topographical map of the area popped up as a 3-D projection; that same circular symbol on Jesse’s arm blinked on the map.

“See!” Genji exclaimed. “They are here for Jesse. They are going to rescue him!”

“Hm…” Something suddenly chilled within Hanzo, numbing his intuition. In the span of a few weeks, Hanzo’s life had been turned upside down. Too many things had happened too quickly for him to process. He needed time; time to reflect, to revisit, to explore. To mourn…

It was all happening too fast.

“Jesse!”

The humans reached the beach where Hanzo had left Jesse, exactly where he had left him. Pale skin, serape hung loosely over his weakened frame – he hardly looked like he was breathing; a corpse decorating the glade. He looked so fragile on the immaculate beach: as if Nature Herself was unmoved, surrounded by the suffering of humans.

The blue one took off her helmet, rushing to his side. A surge of protectiveness flooded Hanzo’s being – until he saw the tenderness in her hands, the way her face screwed up in fierce anguish before covering it in tight professionalism.

Then, Hanzo knew; they were here to save him.

“Angela, over here!” The winged human alighted closely on the blue one’s heels, a cool mask set in place as she went to work, flitting her hands over every inch of his body. Meanwhile, on the edge of the water the biker began to work, endless shapes of translucent light floating around her head. She plucked them out of the air with her robotic arm, piecing them together with fluid precision, wholly focused on her endeavor.

When the blue one lifted Jesse in her arms only then did Hanzo launch forward without thinking – the pained moan Jesse made ripped into Hanzo’s mind, blind rage controlling his muscles. Genji bodily stopped him, coiling his comforting mass around him.

“Brother, leave them be. Do not interfere. It is better this way.”

Genji has grown so much.

“Please. This is how it should be.” He hated his own philosophy thrown back at his face.

The humans approached the device the biker had created: a portal of blue light, a faint mechanical hum indicating its completion. The angelic one picked up Jesse’s hat where Genji left it in the sand, brushing it off and laying it on his chest. She patted him once, a comforting gesture more to herself. Then she gripped her staff, focused, a soft yellow beam connected to Jesse. “Patient stabilized. Ready to proceed.”

And in a flash, the four humans disappeared into the blue light.

The portal crumbled into nothingness. The two dragons waited. And waited, and waited, as if waiting for the grand reveal to an impossible magic trick. They should be happy. He should be happy; Jesse’s teammates had found him, brought him back with their bizarre technology. They would help him get better. Right?

No. No, it was all wrong.

“No…”

Faster than his mind could catch up, Hanzo clambered down to the beach on his own four feet – sniffing madly at the quickly fading scents, then at where they had vanished. And back and again. And back and again.

Genji glided down more slowly, resigned in his motions. “Brother…”

The blue dragon ignored him. He caught Jesse’s scent, trailing after it to the edge of the water, hoping to find some clue, any clue. There should have been more. That couldn’t be it. But there was nothing to find.

As if he were never there.

“No!”

Hanzo ran into the cave on his two feet, something mad clawing at his heart. He stopped short at the deep red plaid flannel lying crumpled on the stone floor. It didn’t make sense. It was all so wrong, too abrupt. It was too late.

Too late.

Genji found him kneeling on the ground, unmoving, clutching the plaid to his chest.

Jesse was gone. Just like that.

And so the forest grew quiet once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger brought to you by Hanzo “has too many feelings” Shimada
> 
> Basically this fic is me just projecting "genji is the little brother, but is far misunderstood by his older brother to be not mature enough. but he proves him wrong and helps him out with his guilt" and i just can't get enough of loving and deep and silly and complicated sibling relationships cuz it's like my own relationship with my bro ;_; (psssst hinthint more in the last chapter)
> 
> One more chapter before I finish my longest fic yet, I'm so excited for this milestone! Stay tuned!!!


	6. Come Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo was sure he could live with the silence of the forest after Jesse had disappeared. He did not know how wrong he was - but the alternative might be even harder to take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for doing this to you guys, but I’m afraid you will want your refund because you guys did NOT sign up for the Shimada bros feels trip I dropped yall with this lastest update. I know this is mchanzo, but honestly I feel like this is my best work regarding their sibling relationship. I really don’t see enough good pure sibling bonding brothers acting like real supportive brothers, just being casual anywhere (I am very passionate about this despite the god-awful little canon history we’ve been given so far). Probably shouldn’t have alienated the “only mchanzo” crowd but I thought this chapter vitally needed the shimada bros bonding otherwise the final scene just… wouldn’t be as impactful, you know? Tell me what you guys think, if I did it right or wrong or what other choice I had, I’m curious! Still I hope you enjoy this extra chapter because I was writing this and it got far too long so it's a treat for yall sticking around :D

Hanzo had been making arrows for quite some time.

The wind blew at irregular intervals far below where he sat on the lip of the gorge. At this time of the year the chilly breeze was unnatural, more biting than the warm lazy currents he was used to, but that was because today he had ventured out into the less-explored regions of the forest, situating himself at the perimeters of his domain.

He hardly gave any of these things a second thought, though, completely focused on his work. It was sometime before dawn when he had arrived: now it had almost reached late afternoon. Dead leaves skittered in the breeze.

Genji was watching him, he knew, behind that old gnarled tree whose bark shed in uneven patches. He flicked his knife down the shaft of the wood, reshaping its form. Methodical, efficient. Not that he was trying to be secretive in the first place. The natural noises of the forest did not reach out here on these grounds made of stone, the animals driven away by the strangeness of the gorge.

And there he was, approaching him, treading softly on hard earth. It didn’t really matter, for every one of his footfalls crunched on fallen branches and bark. Like walking across a field of lifelessness.

Hanzo felt right at home.

“Yes, Genji?” Might as well get this over with. His work was not yet complete, and no distractions were welcome at this time.

“Would you like some assistance, brother?”

Out of all the things he could have said, that was not something he expected to hear. Hanzo shot him a surprised glance; Genji stood tall and relaxed, crossed arms lending a sturdy weight to his profile. He regarded him with a smooth stare, expression betraying nothing. The older brother nodded his assent.

He was glad he made the right decision when the tiniest of smiles quirked Genji’s lips. He took a seat beside him: not quite touching but enough that his presence filled the air.

They spent a while together in silence, time whittling away like their shaved pieces of wood disappearing into the gorge below. Out here nothing obstructed their view of the rolling hillside, beautiful swathes of dark green like a blanket over the land.

“I came across a few caves that housed hot springs around here,” came Genji’s voice, a little bit softer in respect of the silence surrounding them. “They are big enough to house both our dragon forms. I was thinking we could visit them when we are done here.”

“Oh?” Genji might be a fantastic liar, but Hanzo was better at uncovering them. “To the best of my knowledge, the cave system in this area has no significant geothermal capabilities to speak of.”

“You couldn’t have checked yourself. I was just there,” he replied.

“I don’t need to check. The earth here does not carry the potential for that kind of underground heat. If you wish to use the hot spring, that would be,” he pointed without looking, still focused on his task, “on the other side of the forest.”

They both knew where he meant; it was their usual spot. But Genji refused to give in. “Alright, then. It may not be heated, but it shouldn’t take too long to warm it up for you. For us, I mean.”

Now that was strange. Hanzo scowled at his brother’s offer, confused. He knew full well that Genji absolutely hated taking hours out of his time just to blow heat into cool water with his dragon breath. He had no patience for that. Besides, fire-breathing gave him heartburn. “I have no interest in your hot springs, not today nor anytime soon. Now, if you have nothing else to say, then leave me _be_.”

His annoyance was reaching a peak too high too fast, and that last comment upset himself more than it did Genji. Shame burned at his eyes like a too-bright flare. He pushed it down, but it had left its mark. His fingers shook for a brief moment, and he almost gouged out a large chunk of the arrow he was working on. His head grew tight, vision pinching. Of course. It was so obviously clear that he could not do anything right.

No matter. The day was going to be over soon; his last few arrows would almost be done. He would leave, and then he would walk back to the beach, and then he would sit in Jesse’s cave and hold his flannel close and fail to fall asleep, tormented by his decisions. Not even his lingering scent would grant him comfort. And then the cycle would continue, as it had for many days onward.

Nowadays it was all too easy for Hanzo to spiral into regret.

Perhaps Genji did not notice. For all he did was sigh, and say in an almost-broken voice, “Do it for me, Hanzo?”

The arrow’s wood was sturdy, of excellent quality. He was quite proud, knowing that his forest would provide him with nothing less than perfection.

That mattered none when it savagely splintered in Hanzo’s crushing grip.

“I have no right.”

The jagged pieces fell into the abyss as Hanzo stormed off, the need to feel numb pulling him into the sparse thicket of dead trees. Soon – and it would be soon – he was going to explode, the shrill pierce of his conflicted emotions threatening to boil over if he did not calm himself immediately. And he did not want to be anywhere near Genji when that happened.

He transformed as he ran, craving for the thump of his paws to silence the throb of his heart. But the soil was too soft and the path too straightforward. He grew angrier and angrier.

“Hanzo!”

Genji was running after him, doing his best to track the chaos left in his wake and succeeding, not sure as to what he was up to.

Chaos: it was what his heart had been for a very long time. When he first entered this forest, to when the human entered his life, to when Jesse…

He gulped back a sob. Jesse was gone.

And it was all this goddamn forest’s _fault_.

Coming to an abrupt stop, he roared at the trees that surrounded him and swiped, feeling an intense satisfaction course through his blood when its sickly bark buckled under his claws. He reared up, a roar ripping through his throat as he descended upon the tree, striking a killing blow and felling it to the ground. He bared his teeth: such a frail thing lying on the ground. Dead, inert, weak. Just like…

He howled, whipping his head around to find his next target. Genji stood in his way.

“Brother!” He held his arms out. “Please, listen to me!”

He walked forward, blocking his path, unafraid of the height the blue dragon had against his puny human body. And yet it was Hanzo who backpedaled, recoiling in a too-familiar fear.

Hissing, he pulled his ears back, and retreated to the edge of the small clearing. _Go away_ , he screamed in his mind, _before I hurt you again_.

“I am not afraid of you,” Genji yelled across the clearing. It echoed, empty and dull to his ears. “So do not be afraid for me. I am not fragile.”

Yes, Hanzo agreed, knowing how resilient and patient and strong his brother had gotten over the years, how unrecognizable he had become in the best way possible. But Hanzo? Oh no, he was the same. The same, old, broken elder brother who had committed an unforgivable sin, who was making the same mistakes as he had decades ago. And nothing, not even Jesse, who paid for it with his life, could change that.

“Would Jesse want to see you this way?”

Hanzo flinched at his name. He growled, ground down at his teeth. Then whirled to face the tree behind him. He scored long gashes down its bark, momentary relief fueling his actions. The world around him melted away, and for a while he didn’t have to think.

“Hanzo…”

Genji’s voice was closer. Hanzo froze, then forced himself to turn slowly. He was sitting cross-legged, not even twenty feet away, staring calmly up at him. “Can I touch your tail?”

He was too close. Too close. Too close, any more closer and he would be dead and it would be his fault. Terror swept through his body, dread stiffening his limbs. There was nothing he could do except stay still and hope that Genji would do the sensible thing and go away.

But he wouldn’t go away. “Can I touch your tail?” he asked again, hovering just above the feathers adorning the end. “Just this once. Please?”

His eyes were getting blurry. Genji’s face merged with Jesse’s: that same look of trust mirroring each other’s expressions. Something small and warm rested on his tail.

He broke. Bending down low Hanzo finally transformed, kneeling in the ugly clearing as his brother shuffled up to his shaking form, wrapping his arms tight and rocking him back and forth as Hanzo let the tears flow: for Genji, for Jesse, for himself. He buried them all into Genji’s shirt, loosening his hold on the past and forgetting about the future, rejoicing and mourning for what he had and what he lost. Hands clutched hard at the back of his shirt; Genji, too, needed to mourn.

The two brothers soon quieted. The wind whistled harshly against the expanse of the clearing. Genji sniffled.

Hanzo scowled. Genji sniffled again, then shivered. Pressed up against each other, he felt it pass all the way down his body. His brother was cold.

Hanzo’s scowl grew deeper. And it was all this forest’s fault.

Rage swelled his heart, and for a moment he saw red. It was a peculiar kind of rage – one that he had never felt before. It didn’t stop him from scrambling to his feet, huffing like he had ran a marathon.

Genji stood up as well, a bit unsteady on his feet. “Brother? What–”

“Don’t you hate this forest, Genji?” Hanzo walked up to the tree he had mauled and turned around, leaning onto it for support. He was out of breath, skin hot with exertion. He scratched at the tree’s bark, his nail breaking under the pressure. He paid it no mind.

Genji considered the question, then hesitantly answered, “I mean, we’ve seen all there is needed to be seen here, so,” he shrugged, “yes?”

It seemed that it was the correct thing to say. Delighted, Hanzo wiped at his face, grinning wide, staring up at him with a strange emotion twinkling in his eyes. “Genji, I have a proposition.”

The wind picked up, creaking the remaining trees and obnoxiously stirring dead leaves in its path. Still Hanzo’s breath was audible, his eyes wide. “What if, we could…” He paused, licked his lips then laughed, fidgety and short-lived. He covered his eyes with a broad hand. “This is going to sound crazy, but what if we could…”

Genji took a few slow steps forward, bringing his hands up to grip his shoulders. He was scared, yes, but he could tell his brother desperately needed to say something. He rubbed his thumbs into tense muscles. “What is it, brother? You can tell me.”

The action seemed to ground Hanzo. When he finally looked at Genji his eyes were wide and fearful – but not like the fear from before; determined, in spite of everything that had happened. He pursed his lips, considered once more. Then, as if the forest itself could hear, he whispered, “What if we could leave this place and go find Jesse ourselves?”

The wind stopped blowing.

“Do you think we can do it, brother?” Hanzo was talking fast now, hyper and alert, looking for any hint of reaction in Genji. “It’s been so long, I…” he said, voice small. “I don’t think I can leave the forest…”

Genji could hardly believe his ears. “It’s possible, Hanzo, it’s possible,” he urged, lifting his hands to grip the sides of his head and pulling him close, looked him in the eyes. “Hanzo, listen to me. You can do it. You can leave this forest.” His excitement was infectious. “It’s always been possible. And I swear to you that you will not do it alone. We will leave this forest together.”

Hanzo buried his face in his neck, hugging him tight. “I’ll always be by your side, Hanzo,” Genji promised, holding him close. “Always.”

______

Hanzo polished and repolished his bow, admiring how it glinted off of the sun at a marvelous angle. As expected there were no flaws to its design, its beauty unmatched – just as he had reached the same conclusion the other thousand times.

Shaking his head, he turned to inspect his armor: examined his metal greaves, tugged on his archer’s garb, tested a suitable fit on the glove. He craned his head up at the sun, ascertaining how much time was left in the hot afternoon. Out the corner of his eye he spotted Genji in a tree, hanging upside down and doing half-hearted crunches.

Putting on an exasperated demeanor, Hanzo rested his chin on his hand. “If you were done with your preparations so promptly, perhaps you could’ve helped me with mine.”

Genji didn’t even bother sitting up, preferring to lazily swing his arms in the breeze. “I’ve been telling you this whole time that you’ve _been_ ready, but you keep wanting everything to be all perfect and stuff.”

He looked down at his equipment, remembering the dust that had accumulated over his armor when he fetched it this morning, and how gleaming and brand-new it looked now. He gave it one more swipe of his sleeve.

Genji cursed. “Can you get that for me?”

His orange scarf had fluttered down to the sand, right by Hanzo’s feet. He picked it up, squinting at the bright color: the fabric had gone a bit rough with use over time, but it was still very soft and warm. Genji has had it for as long as he can remember.

Hanzo wrapped it around his neck. “Mine, now,” he declared, and enjoyed the way Genji flailed in the tree, doing nothing about it except to create a ruckus.

He pointedly kept his full attention on Genji, who had dropped down and continued to argue with him. His focus never wavered from him as he put on his armor, strapped his quiver on, gripped his bow tight in his hand.

The hottest part of the day had passed. The two brothers began to walk at a leisurely pace, talking about inconsequential things. It was Genji who was leading them this time, taking a winding route through the increasingly dense trees; and it was Hanzo who was bickering about the unreasonable amount of swords strapped onto every free space of Genji’s sides and back: “I need all of them, Hanzo,” was the only argument he made.

The distractions were working well – until they reached the edge of the forest.

Actually, there was really nothing remarkable about this particular part of the forest. There wasn’t even any sort of discernable perimeter, the stretch of trees continuing to last far out into the horizon – except for the fact that it was Hanzo who had drawn those arbitrary lines to mark his territory: to claim it as his space and his alone, so that no one may bother him in his self-inflicted exile. And now here he was, about to do something he had never done before ever since he stepped into this place.

Genji had already stepped across the threshold and walked a few more paces until he noticed Hanzo was absent from his side. He looked over his shoulder.

“It is time to go, brother,” he said softly.

Hanzo didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave. He couldn’t bring himself to move. Yesterday it had seemed so easy to declare his intentions, to leave this forest with his brother by his side, to change his life for good. But now something was holding him back, something too powerful, something he felt that he could never overcome no matter how hard he tried. His mind began to fill itself with white noise and dark thoughts. Fear and longing warred in his heart. He didn’t know what to do.

“Have you seen these, brother?” Genji’s voice broke into his thoughts, casual and low. He had come back to the boundary line and was kneeling on the ground, attention fixed on something wriggling in the space between them. Without thinking Hanzo knelt.

Separating the two brothers was the thick trunk of a fallen tree, long dead, its wood eaten and rotted from the inside. On top of the trunk, however, was a colony of snails: about ten in total. They had made their home here, going about their business in their slow way, unmindful of the giants observing up above them. Hanzo had always been fond of nature. It was mesmerizing to watch.

“Look, brother. You have to see this.” Genji was pointing at something on the other side of his tree, eager and hopeful. “Come on my side.”

The doubts came crowding back in, but Hanzo found the strength deep within himself to cut through them all when he looked, _really_ looked at his brother. His vision cleared: he saw the faint signs of fitful sleep under Genji’s eyes, and the way his smile was burdened by an invisible weight. He looked drawn, exhausted, tired, weary to his bones, and yesterday likely hadn’t helped either – but he was still here, holding out a hand for Hanzo.

And when he thought of Jesse, that was the final push he needed.

His legs moved on their own, limbs slow yet too fast for him to comprehend as he grabbed onto Genji’s arm like a lifeline. One foot, then the other, and then his whole body: he had done it. He had left his domain.

Genji held his gaze, and he was utterly grateful for his support because he just might lose his nerve and turn back around and never think about leaving again and then Genji was hugging him and they stayed that way for a while – listening to the sounds of the forest, new and unexplored.

Their journey had begun.

______

The evening had descended upon them when they stopped for the night, cresting a small hill enclosed by curved trees. They hunted for food before light faded, going through familiar motions.

They sat down to eat in silence. The rapidly fading sunlight was still filtering through the canopy, so Hanzo grabbed his quiver. He inspected it and counted off his arrows, comforted by his routine. Then paused – out of his stock of forty, there was one missing.

A low chuckle grabbed his attention. He directed his glare to Genji, who was holding something behind his back. “Looking for something?” came his deceptively upbeat voice.

A fully assembled arrow, save for the feathers, entered Hanzo’s view: it was marvelously crafted, the stone tip sharped to his liking and tied securely at its base – not his handiwork, but it was up to his standards.

Except for the fact that carved into the shaft in broad strokes were words in swirling letters decorated in a twisting spiral all the way down: from the edge of the fletching to the tip of the arrow.

“‘Dragon, consume my enemies’?” Hanzo read aloud, a teasing lilt to his tone as he raised his eyebrows in Genji’s direction.

“So your arrow strikes true,” said Genji, sincere and straight to the point.

“I…” A burst of pride made him break eye contact. “It needs something else,” he said, and unwrapped the gold ribbon around his hair. Cutting off a thin slice, he secured it on the end where the fletching should have been. He bowed his chin, held it out for his approval.

“Come over here,” Genji grabbed him suddenly, jerking him up to his feet. “I have to show you something.”

Perhaps it was him or the growing darkness, but he could have sworn Genji’s voice was thick. Hanzo made to ask, but then they cleared the trees. Genji pointed upwards.

There, nestled in the mountains above them was a city glowing with yellow lights, its walls surrounded by elegant trees bowing outwards; like watchful beings, its faint pink petals gently fell in the breeze, painting the scene picturesque.

Hanzo gasped aloud, his knees hitting the soft earth. Hanamura. His city. His home. It had been so long. It was so much more beautiful than he ever imagined.

“We are travelling there tomorrow,” Genji said, observing his reaction. “I think you will like it there.”

He joined him on the ground, laying a grounding hand on his shoulder. “I have to warn you, brother. It has changed quite a bit since you last visited. But there is no need for alarm; the people are the same, I assure you.”

Anticipation swelled in his chest. Hanzo forced his eyes open, never tiring of the sight but tired nonetheless; he had gone through too many emotions these past few weeks, and it took a toll on his stamina. Still, they stayed there, admiring the view until the cold forced them to take shelter.

The elevation had sharpened the wind’s sting, and the embers of the fire gave little warmth. Genji shivered despite his layers. Glancing down at the orange scarf around his neck, Hanzo pondered – then untied the sleeves of Jesse’s worn plaid shirt from his waist and spread it over Genji’s sleeping form.

Pressing his back to Genji’s he wriggled under the other half of the large shirt and tucked himself in, nuzzling the uniquely soft texture. When he closed his eyes, he hoped Jesse would greet him in his dreams.

______

“There it is.”

Hanzo gulped. The sounds of Hanamura reached his ears: a train speeding above the streets, businesses selling their wares. Smoke from the industry sector floated past, the clean whites of manufactured clouds dissipating harmlessly into the atmosphere. In the distance miniature people went about their lives.

Hanzo nodded, afraid and determined. “Let’s go.”

They weaved past dense foliage and climbed the steep incline, sure-footed and swift. It was only when the land leveled off into a narrow sidestreet that Hanzo’s heart started to race.

The two peered around the corner into a bigger street. There was no one there.

“Hm,” Genji chewed at his cheek, engrossed in thought. “That is strange…”

“What?” Hanzo insisted. “What is it?”

He thought some more, then suddenly brightened. “Oh! It must be…” He broke off, stealing a look at Hanzo. “It’s nothing bad. Here,” he said, holding out his hand, “come with me.”

He wasn’t given time to react as his wrist was snatched by Genji, who was racing off down the empty street.

“Slow down–!” Hanzo cried out, too many sensations hitting him all at once: the clack of feet against worn cobblestone, the sight of buildings towering above their forms, the smell of… food?

They turned a corner into a wide boulevard. Hanzo gasped.

Humans. So many humans dotted the avenue in front of them. They flooded it with their presence: talking, mingling, laughing, bartering with the stalls that lined its edges. Colors invaded his sight, electricity vibrating against his skin. People jostled his shoulders, solid and real. He was immersed in each extraordinary feeling.

“Is this a festival?” he asked, breathless, caught in vivid affection for his people. His city, Hanamura, it was so lively – it _must_ be celebrating something. Everyone looked so happy.

By his side, Genji coughed into his fist. “No, it’s just Wednesday.”

It wasn’t the answer Hanzo was looking for but it made him laugh, and some of the tension left his body, releasing its hold on his limbs enough so that they could start walking amongst the crowd. His attention was held by everything at once – there was so much to focus on, too much to process.

When they exited the boulevard Hanzo collapsed into a chair, already spent. He breathed in deep, then let it out, intending to recharge – until a human walked into view.

Who then proceeded to trip on the foot of a metal chair and fell flat on their face. Hanzo leapt up, but couldn’t avoid the splat of ice cream that stained his greaves.

“S-sorry, sorry,” the human stuttered, scrambling up to their feet.

“It’s okay,” Hanzo heard himself say without even thinking, helping them up. It was okay, because Hanzo was far too enamored to care; this was a human, the very first one he had come into contact with ever since his exile. He was struck speechless.

The human didn’t notice, thankfully, leaving Hanzo to study them in detail, eyes suddenly shining with emotion he couldn’t contain.

Hanzo hugged them tight. “Enjoy your Wednesday,” he muttered, eyes squeezed shut, not knowing what else to say but feeling like he had to say something to express the fondness coursing through him for his people: as though he might explode if he remained silent.

The human gave him a strange look after they handed him a bunch of tissues to clean the ice cream off – “thanks, y-you too?” – and went on their way.

He waded back into the crowd to find Genji, his heart and soul a little more balanced, and found him in front of a store that exhibited an odd creature.

“Take a look at this fine establishment,” Genji announced.

Hanzo read the sign. “‘Rikimaru?’”

Genji was already strolling in. “Best. Ramen. Ever.”

The restaurant wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t packed either. The two brothers took their seats at the bar and, once it was clear Genji could not be dissuaded from using one of his swords as payment, the exasperated owner set down two steaming hot bowls of ramen.

Hanzo contemplated the bowl of delicious-smelling food with a watchful eye. It had been a long time since he had eaten anything so… elaborately prepared, if the numerous ingredients floating in the broth were anything to go by. Most of his meals in the forest were raw flesh that he had earned in his hunts or berries he had foraged. He picked up his chopsticks…

…and gave the most obscene moan at the flavor that hit his tongue.

It was indescribable: the taste, the aroma, the _spice_. It was all so mouthwatering, kick-starting his appetite to an insane speed. He paid no heed to Genji, who was staring at him with a baffled look on his face.

“You might want to…” Genji cautioned. Hanzo had already devoured half of his giant bowl. “…slow down.”

In no time he finished the whole serving. “Another!” he ordered, wiping at his mouth. He looked like a madman, grinning wildly. “Two more!”

“Ah, no–” The owner poked her head out of the back, already thoroughly irked by the two brothers. Genji flashed a sheepish smile. “He means one, just bring one, please.”

To Hanzo’s delight, she placed two bowls on the table. “That sword of yours gets you four bowls, and then you two are out.”

Hanzo grinned victoriously.

“You are going to get sick,” Genji warned.

Not thirty minutes later Hanzo was, true to Genji’s word, sick to his stomach as they exited the restaurant: Hanzo swaying unsteadily on his feet, and Genji rolling his eyes. They took shelter in an adjacent park.

Hanzo groaned indulgently. “I haven’t had food like that in so long.”

“Brother,” Genji said, smiling sickly sweet, “that was, quite frankly, the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

Hanzo let out a whoop of laughter. “Then we must come here again tomorrow.”

The reds of the twilight sky washed over the buildings in the town square, softening their edges and muting the sounds of the city. Evening began to settle in; the citizens of Hanamura were beginning to wind down for a warm night.

“We cannot stay here.”

Genji gave him a confused look. “We can’t stay in Hanamura for long,” Hanzo clarified, staring up at the sky. “We need to find Jesse.”

It hurt him to say it. This was his home, his people, his life, and he so desperately wished to catch up. But something new burned in his chest; something which was once hollow that had become filled when Jesse had wormed his way into his heart. And now he needed more than ever to fill that gaping void – his restlessness would consume him otherwise, if he couldn’t find Jesse.

Apparently, Genji still had energy to spare; his footfalls were brisk and agile as soon as they hit the ground. “C’mon, then,” he called out over his shoulder. “I believe I know where to go.”

The place, it turns out, was a library just a few blocks down from the park. It was tiny, ancient, tucked into a corner and around the block, blending in perfectly with the quaint little houses that were exactly identical. Only an inconspicuous sign that said ‘library’ on the front exposed its presence.

The senior librarian looked none too pleased when the brothers entered just before closing time. Under her stern glare Genji mused, scratching his chin. “This is a good place to start, but we’ll need to find some leads if we are to begin our search. Do you have any ideas, brother?”

Hanzo did. “Excuse me,” he jumped into action, rushing over to the desk and grabbed a pen and paper, sketching out the symbol that had been burned into his memory ever since Jesse had first arrived.

He thrust the drawing to the librarian: a circular pattern, with a ‘W’ inscribed inside its edges. “What does this symbol mean?” demanded Hanzo.

The librarian looked down her glasses. “Everyone knows what that is. That’s Overwatch.”

______

They spent a while curled up in front of an antiquated computer, perched on creaky chairs as they continued their research late into the night. Despite the librarian’s initial gruff reception she fussed over the boys, providing them with a map and marking down several crucial Overwatch facilities across the world – and a few snacks, which Hanzo gratefully devoured. Before they took their leave Genji left a particularly sleek sword on her desk, curved and refined, as thanks for her assistance.

With their game plan set the brothers spent the night under the stars of Hanamura, overlooking the city below, etching its distinct outline into their memory. At dawn they departed their home with heavy hearts, but keen to embark on their journey.

Their first stop was Iraq, setting their sights on Oasis: a tremendous hub of information in which the greatest scientific minds of the world converged within its walls, its stores of knowledge centuries old and vast. The distance from Japan was long, but their stamina was greater as their dragon forms soared high above the clouds, beyond the range of any human detection.

Soon they alighted on the outskirts of a huge center, marked by a ring of green from the vast desert of tan brown sand beyond its borders. Genji ran up to the nearest storefront.

“Hello!” he shouted, stepping inside what looked to be a simple convenience store. At least three fans were turned on at maximum speed, all of which accomplished in spreading the dry air of the desert around the store.

There was no one there. “Is anyone here?” he called out to the shelves of products.

Hanzo said after a pause, “Perhaps we should move on and find someone else to ask where the main library is,” just as someone emerged from the backroom.

“Ah, _ahlan_ , my apologies…”

An accented voice was nothing unusual – but it was the distinct buzz of a machine-like quality which they matched to the figure that dashed out from behind the counter that rendered the brothers speechless.

“Welcome! Are you looking for something in particular?” the metal being asked, fingers landing with an indelicate _thunk_ on the counter. Even though the vendor had no facial expressions, the voice that rang out sounded cheery and warm.

Genji stared openly. “You are… a robot,” he pointed out dumbly.

Genji was the one who was the more traveled amongst the two brothers, disappearing for days at a time during his tenure in the forest whenever it became necessary. But he had only gone so far as to Hanamura and not any place farther, and never before had either of them ever interacted with someone made entirely of metal.

The merchant raised his chin, a bit sharp. “My name is A1-MTN. And I would prefer it if you called us omnics, since the term ‘robot’ has a loaded history for us.”

It was safe to say that Genji, for his part, was utterly enamored with every slight movement this individual exhibited – mechanical yet effortlessly fluid. Then his eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize…”

The omnic held up a hand. “No offense meant. You two are travelers after all. I appreciate your quick acceptance.” If nothing else, it certainly _felt_ like the omnic was happy. “In that case, I am called Al-Mateen, or Mateen for short.”

The counters and surfaces were coated with an ever-present dust, which Mateen wiped down with a cloth. “So, how may I help you?”

Genji was still staring dumbly, watching the omnic vigorously go to work. When Hanzo nudged him he cleared his throat, and then shook his head. Then he grinned uselessly at the omnic, who was standing by with an expectant air. “Um…”

Aware of the spectacle that was about to unfold, Hanzo crossed his arms with a knowing smirk and made himself unhelpful by standing off to the side.

“I was…” Genji pulled at his collar. “I, ah, need… this, of course!”

He picked up a small rectangular box. “The camera?” Mateen asked, sounding puzzled but too shy to do anything about it.

“Yes!” he practically yelled. “Sure!”

It was faint, but Mateen’s joints shuddered a little when he reached out to check out the camera, his fingers brushing over Genji’s. Pulling up a holoscreen, he made himself scarce behind its glow as he placed the order.

The next few minutes were spent in a – according to Hanzo – hilariously timid back and forth in order to set up the service to link the camera to the Cloud, and to create an account to access those pictures. All of which were done in between the glances that both the store owner and his little brother were stealing when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

“So what brings you to Oasis?” Hanzo heard Mateen say.

Before he could get a word in edgewise, Genji jumped in, “We are here to see the university library! We’ve heard it has great stores of knowledge that we may access to aid in our quest.”

“The library?” Mateen straightened, the lights on his forehead blinking haphazardly. “Ah, I can bring you there. Please, follow me!”

It turned out the library was not too far. Their short walk was set under massive panes of artfully-sculpted glass and symmetrical architecture. The light tapping of feet followed Mateen and Genji as they were engrossed in a lengthy conversation. Hanzo accompanied them from a distance, rolling his eyes at the way Genji was steadfastly keeping his gaze locked on the omnic, so animated and small against such sweeping beauty.

It was a straightforward thing to obtain an extensive archive on the history of Overwatch, their access granted upon library-issued tablets. Mateen helped as much as he could, then took them outside.

“These are the famous Gardens of Oasis,” he said, gesturing to a wide courtyard which was sectioned off and enclosed by tall shrubs and plants of all shapes and colors.

The sounds of chatter and zooming cars of the nearby highway grew muted as they stepped down the stairs into the courtyard. “It is a popular spot for students to do their work here, but it seems that we are lucky today,” said Mateen as he peeked around corners and date trees. “I will leave you two to your research.”

“Wait!” Genji ran after him, holding out the camera. “Can you teach me how to…”

Letting out a tiny sigh, Hanzo collected Genji’s tablet and scouted out a comfortable place in the courtyard, opting to forgo the benches in favor of tucking himself between the immaculately trimmed tall hedges, effectively out of sight. Water trickled in the distance, and leaves waved in the dry breeze. A pang of longing for his forest hit Hanzo fleetingly. He turned to his tablet.

Much of what they had learned about Overwatch in Hanamura was basic knowledge, and he confirmed what they had read in Oasis’s archives, skimming through its history and delving into the time periods that went deep into detail. Mateen’s earlier remark about the term ‘robot’ made a lot more sense in light of the Omnic Crisis…

The _snap_ of a camera brought him back to reality. He scowled at the flash briefly engulfing his sight before it faded to Genji’s thrilled expression.

He pouted, “You’re supposed to smile,” before turning back to Mateen to snap multiple pictures of him in quick succession – who was unable to decide whether to shy away or preen under the attention, but was inordinately pleased nonetheless.

_And you’re supposed to be helping me,_ Hanzo wanted to retort, but held his tongue at the precious way Genji was completely enamored with Mateen, and how the omnic reciprocated so readily: that someone, whether they were made of flesh or metal, was giving him the time of day without batting an eye at the scars that plainly adorned his face made Hanzo happy beyond words.

“I am sorry to cut this short, but I must go…” he heard Mateen finally say.

The smile vanished from Genji’s face. “Where are you going?”

The omnic tilted his head. “I can’t just leave my shop unattended…”

Even though he had been doing just that for the past twenty minutes the logic was sound, and Genji deflated. Then, Mateen mentioned, “Well, if you are staying in the gardens for some time, there is someone very special I would like for you to meet. Zaynab is a good friend of mine, and the gardens are her favorite place to visit, so she should be here very soon…”

With a last picture, a lingering hug, and an insistent request that, yes, Mateen _must_ absolutely accept two of his swords as a token of their gratitude, Genji plopped down next to Hanzo. He let out a blissful sigh.

The opportunity to be a nuisance was too good to pass up. Hanzo rapped his knuckles on Genji’s forehead. “Having fun, lover boy?”

Genji glowered, but he was too preoccupied to commit to being irritated. “Ew, go back to your books. What have you got so far?”

They toiled the day away, the perpetually hot weather a distant memory under the cool shade of the date trees. Every time people would pass by their spot Genji would take a picture, impressed by the simple long white robes with red headdresses, full black habits with veils on women’s faces, giggles visible in the creased corners of their eyes. Hanzo flipped through multiple documents and articles, finding the same information – but also uncovering certain inconsistencies, things he couldn’t account for.

“Hmm, ‘Blackwatch’? That looks like some sort of typo…”

Genji was sifting through a few articles that Hanzo had cast aside. The outline of a man cast in darkness decorated the front of the magazine cover he was studying.

“Just some sensationalist headline,” Hanzo explained. “I found nothing of note when I searched ‘Blackwatch’ in the database.”

“Absolutely nothing?” Genji raised his eyebrows. “Like nothing at all?”

Hanzo stroked his beard, pondering. “Hmm…” That _was_ rather suspicious. Perhaps the head librarian could shed some light on the matter. “What do you think, Zaynab?”

A plump figure emerged from underneath the shadow of the bushes. It meowed.

“You are right,” he nodded sagely as Genji flopped onto the ground, groaning. “I should take a well-deserved break and let Genji handle it.”

He stood up to stretch out his muscles, sore from sitting all day. Zaynab meowed again, soft and dignified. She neatly vaulted over the flowerbed’s short fence.

“Yes, you are correct. That is a fern. A decorative grass species. Hm, long slender leaves ending off in feathery plumes. Very ornate, and yet so simple… what, no, do not _eat_ it–!”

Hanzo was never more mortified when he heard the camera shutter go off, an armful of misbehaving cat squirming in his arms. He glared at the culprit.

“Fine, fine, I’ll get to work,” Genji grumbled around his triumphant smirk, picking up one of the many tablets scattered around him.

Hanzo sighed, disappointed in the bundle of liquid fur. “I thought you were on my side.”

______

Night fell upon them, and they were no closer to uncovering any new discoveries. To Genji’s delight, they remained in Oasis for the next few days. They took refuge inside the university’s mosque which kept them happily housed and fed but otherwise found precious little information on Blackwatch: just a handful of blurry photographs and, oddly enough, a series of short cryptic messages from an ancient site called ‘Twitter.’

The broadcasted news that played all across campus, however, piqued their interest; a city called Numbani was even larger than Oasis, and home to many, _many_ more omnics and humans alike.

Naturally it became the next destination in their adventure. With a last look towards Oasis they flew among the currents of a chilly night, smooth and tranquil, matching the endless hills of rolling sand beneath their dragon forms. Microscopic villages dotted their path as they crossed borders. Night turned into day and night again, until they decided to visit one of those villages.

Hanzo learned many things about humans: that wariness could turn into hospitality, that food could flow freely between complete and utter strangers, that humans could make anything look beautiful as he watched them sing and dance in long, colorful garments. His howling laughter was unhindered when they dressed Genji up in mismatched cloths of royal blue and embroidered gold, resembling a traveler of the desert. In exchange he entertained the villagers, posing with a dramatic air – harassing Hanzo to take multiple pictures with a sword that was doubtless “a perfect match” to complete the outfit in style.

Soon the land gave way to fields of tall golden grass, swaying peacefully in the breeze as they reached the outskirts of Numbani. They drifted inside the open loft window of a lone barn, and passed around a bottle of something alcoholic they had received as a gift from the village. It was deceptively potent, and worked quickly in suffusing their blood. In no time they were slumped against the wooden walls, dizzy and languid.

Genji got up, taking a running start and jumped from the loft into a pile of loose hay, yelling all the way down. A cow mooed nearby.

“Genji!” Hanzo tried to sound stern under the giddiness of the alcohol. “You are waking the animals!”

He leapt down after him in a much more calculated jump, waited for the pleasant lightheadedness to fade, and then crossed the floor of the barn towards the cramped set of stables. A few cows plus a family of goats stared back at him with beady, curious eyes.

Bounding up from the hay Genji dusted himself off. “You see? They are fine.”

“You disturbed their nap,” he fussed, aimlessly waving his arms around. “You always disturb the naps of fine, noble creatures.”

“Are you talking about yourself?”

Hanzo’s mouth screwed up into a scowl as Genji crouched down. “Do not fret,” he assured, lightly tapping the cow on the nose. “We will be out of here by dawn.”

A baby calf rested by its side. Hanzo wasn’t sure whether he was talking to him or to the cow that had spoken out earlier. It yawned in response.

Hanzo yawned as well. “I’m going to sleep,” he said, and promptly crumpled to the hard ground. “Come quick so that you too may get away from this nuisance.” He opened his arms, motioning to a squat goat who was looking at the spectacle with an uninterested gaze.

He wiggled his fingers enticingly. “I am trying to protect you,” he urged.

The goat did not budge. Were he in his right mind, the pang of betrayal would not have been so fierce.

Alas, Genji’s snicker signaled his defeat so Hanzo shuffled to the loose hay in the corner of the stables, rearranging it with slow, lethargic movements. He created a shallow nest then burrowed into the hay. It insulated him from all sides, shielding him from the wind creaking the walls, the smell of farm animals, and other assorted materials that were lying around in the barn.

As was his nightly routine he drew up the red flannel from his waist – then paused when his fingers encountered nothing.

“ _Genji_ ,” he called out. It tapered off into a long, drawn-out groan, which bounced off the walls of the barn. “Give it back.”

“Give what back?”

The irritation flared. “Come over _here_ ,” he ground his teeth, lurching up into a sitting position just as a body collided right into his sleeping spot.

“Brother,” he heard his brother slurring around his words. “Don’t tell me you are gonna sleep in that.”

A quick scan showed what he was looking for: the flannel was thrown carelessly over his shoulders, with the sleeves loosely tied in the front like a cape.

Those large swigs he took not so long ago were really hitting him hard right now. He practically growled, “Give me that,” as he roughly pulled Genji down.

He was toppled over with no resistance, but that also meant Hanzo was smushed under his dead weight. Taking advantage of the disruption, he quickly divested his brother of the flannel with a single-minded concentration.

“Nooooo…” moaned Genji. “That was miiiine...”

Hanzo buried his nose in the soft travel-worn material, sheer relief coursing through his body. Currently he wasn’t feeling too bad.

Then Genji started banging his fists on Hanzo’s back. “That was mine, mine, mine, give it back…”

The blows kept on coming – but with each word they grew weaker and weaker, until he gave up and whined wordlessly.

The sound cut through Hanzo. Now he felt bad. “Fine, we can share,” he grumbled, releasing his tight hold on the bundle of cloth. He didn’t want to share: particularly not today, when he wanted to drown himself in his longing more deeply than any other night, but he made himself do it anyway.

He thought that would make Genji happy, but it didn’t. Instead he whined some more, then pressed his forehead into his back. “I miss Jesse,” his voice came muffled, low and distressed.

Now Hanzo felt even worse. His grief was miserable, yes, but he didn’t even stop to think how badly Genji was affected by all that had happened. Awkwardly he reached around behind him, and tried to pat his green hair. “Me too…” he began hesitantly.

“I missed you, too.” He didn’t know if Genji heard him or not but his brother barreled on, loud and so obviously under the alcohol’s influence, “Miss you. Miss… you being normal. You have such a sour face all the time, ’s nice to see you laugh. Miss you doing that… Jesse could make you do that a lot. Miss him, too.”

He continued repeating variations of the same thing, switching between the two of them until he fell into a fitful silence. With every confession Hanzo’s heart swelled in affection. And when the tears started to fall he blamed it on the alcohol.

He missed Jesse. He missed him so much. Their adventures had distracted him enough that he had almost forgotten the reason as to why they were out here. There was so much happening, so much to see and experience; for some time Jesse had been in the back of his mind. But he knew that Jesse would be happy for him: that he was out of the forest and that he was rebuilding himself and his relationship with Genji, step by small step.

He wiped at his eyes, sniffled quietly. Then craned his neck over his shoulder to find Genji curled up against his back. His arms were rather uncomfortably positioned, and his sleep was not restful.

With the last of his strength he unfurled the flannel and spread it over their forms. There was no force in the world that would convince him to roll over tonight, so he stretched a hand out to lay it over Genji’s hair and began stroking it in earnest: first as awkward as before then settling into a rhythm, slow and careful.

Genji’s breath evened out. “I missed you, too,” he said, the words almost caught in his throat. “I’m glad we’re here together.”

______

The door to the communal kitchen glided open with a hiss. Reinhardt turned.

“Ah, McCree! I did not think you were up.”

Something was sizzling wonderfully on the stove. He grunted in response.

“Come, sit down,” Reinhardt urged, kicking at the foot of the worn couch. “You must still be recovering.”

McCree did as he was told, fighting back a yawn. The giant German was dressed in an apron, his deep humming audible over the noises of the kitchen. He flipped something with a spatula.

“You are up and about. That is good. But I thought our dear Angela said you would be released from Medical first thing tomorrow morning. Or did she take pity on you? Hah!”

He grinned at his own tease, but it was tinged with concern. He glanced back at him. “McCree, my darling, did she actually clear you or are you sneaking out? As much as I sympathize, I do not want you hurting yourself by accident…”

“Naw, partner,” McCree finally spoke. “It’s fine. I’m fine, really. Good to go.” He cracked a small smile at his usual term of endearment being thrown back at him. “‘Sides, it’s just my arm that’s busted. My legs work fine, don’t they?”

Reinhardt relaxed somewhat. “Ah, I suppose you are right, my friend.” He opened the fridge wide. “So what brings you to my kingdom?”

They started up their typical banter: mainly arguing about whose domain it truly was, since McCree’s appetite could rival Reinhardt’s on a good day. Their voices pierced the heavy quiet of the kitchen; it was nighttime on the Watchpoint, and even though they were alone they were mindful of the thin walls and hollow echoes.

After failing to get through Reinhardt’s stubborn insistence that he would be glad to whip up something for him that would wash the taste of Medbay food from his tongue McCree sunk back into the sofa, none of his arguments brooked.

Actually, he was secretly relieved. Despite recovering a noticeable amount, the short walk to the kitchen tired him out pretty quickly. And it wasn’t like he could do much himself, what with his right arm entirely immobilized thanks to the tough cast that had him encased from knuckles to shoulder, all reinforced with a heavy-duty sling.

Damn. His shoulder ached something fierce.

“I am going heavy on the vegetables. It is for your health, my dear cowboy.” He shook the spatula in his direction. “Do not argue with me on this.”

The first few days back on base had been a blur in his memory, but that was easy compared to the weeks of physical therapy and mandatory recuperation that dragged on and on and on, his body recovering so painstakingly slow. Angela had told him later of his rescue, and how they found the capsule of poison tucked away in his pocket: half-filled, more than enough to analyze and concoct an anti-toxin; with the nanobots to help speed up the process, it was an astonishingly simple task to flush it all out of his body before any lasting damage occurred.

But there was still something off. Something that was missing and it was driving him insane most of his waking hours, tormenting him in his sleep. He couldn’t remember certain things – and when he was all alone with his thoughts, reaching out to grab a piece of memory, it slipped away from his grasp, ever-elusive.

There were a few things that he still remembered, though.

“Here we go.” Reinhardt set two plates down: one burger oozing with tenderly-cooked meats of various types, and the other more normal-looking. “Be careful not to eat too fast, lest you get sick to your stomach. Our sweet Angela will turn not-so-sweet if she finds out, you know,” he winked, taking his own seat on the couch.

“Thank ya, Rein. I appreciate it.”

Yes, there were some things that stuck in his mind. In particular the forest, and the wonder he had first experienced when he saw all that green, so lush and full of life. Yes, there was that. McCree picked at his food.

He glanced up at Reinhardt, who smiled back. McCree shivered.

But there was something else, something that sent him into fits and stole his breath away, something so wondrous and sweet and amazing that it hurt, it hurt so _badly_ when he couldn’t remember what the fuck it was, blocking his mind, his memory. God damn it, it was so goddamned frustrating. Whole hours would pass where he would stare into space, lost in thought.

“No sleeping on the dinner table, McCree. Only I can get away with that.”

He didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes. McCree opened them. Reinhardt was staring at him with an amused smirk.

McCree smiled back weakly. Then he buried his face into Reinhardt’s side and cried.

Then there were times that he would remember. He’d remember so clearly it was hard to believe the poison didn’t make him go crazy.

Dragons that filled his vision with their long forms, shimmering green and blue against the back of his eyelids. Snapshots of the forest came clear in small snippets: the tranquility of the lake, the stone cave, the bitter berries he always had to keep scavenging. And in all these memories, the dark eyes of a blue dragon would follow his every move.

“McCree? McCree? Jesse, my friend, what has happened? Oh my…”

He felt strong arms easily envelop his body, mindful of his injury. McCree let himself drown in the warmth, succumbing to the vibrations from Reinhardt’s chest. He let himself go, couldn’t stop even if he tried at this point. Too exhausted to care to realize that this was the first time he had cried in a long time. Not since Reyes’ death. The tears rolled down slowly; they soaked Reinhardt’s shirt.

Reinhardt fumbled a little, eventually drawing in McCree fully into his embrace. “Athena, my dear, lock the doors and under no circumstances are you to allow anyone in...”

His heart was so tight nowadays, anything and nothing set him off: emotions that he couldn’t place, that he couldn’t remember _why_ he was having them. Deep down he knew, though; that what he was feeling was love.

He had loved before: he had loved Reyes and Ana and Morrison. But he was observant, and had seen how they fought – that when they inevitably parted ways, McCree had already done his mourning long ago. It had hurt, still, although that time he was prepared.

But this love? This had been torn from him, and he didn’t know _how_ or _why_ and it was killing him slowly. He had loved, he remembered – he had loved so deeply and so entirely, and been loved in return.

But it had been savagely ripped away from him. And he was dying inside.

A hand stroked down his hair. “Jesse, it’s okay, you are safe…”

Like the poison that had festered in his skin, except it had succeeded in its goal and it was just a matter of time before the heartache would break him.

“The worst is over, Jesse. You are back home…”

And yet a small glimmer of hope remained. That too, he didn’t know how it survived.

“Squeeze my hand twice if you want me to let go… No? Alright…”

No matter how bleak it seemed, he nurtured that hope with what he had snatched from his fractured memory: a moment of shared laughter, the comfortable silence of company, a flash of embarrassment. The ghost of a kiss on his lips.

McCree stirred in his grasp. He lifted his head up, rested it on Reinhardt’s broad shoulder. A tissue box entered his vision.

“Thanks, Rein.” He wiped at his eyes. “‘m sorry ‘bout all that…”

Reinhardt wagged a large finger. “None of that apology business! A friend in need is a friend indeed, and I am more than happy to help.”

McCree chuckled, nodding his head reluctant agreement, too tired to argue. Honestly, he’d agree to anything Reinhardt said nestled up so close to him like this, basking in the warmth and safety the gentle giant offered. Reinhardt’s whole being was made for hugging and the man knew it.

He felt eyes trying to examine him. Reinhardt sounded concerned, “Are you going to turn in for the night, Jesse? Because if Angela finds out you’ve fallen asleep on the couch instead of the Medbay…”

McCree shook his head, trying to contain a shudder. “I’m goin’ back, don’t you worry. Jus’ gimme a moment…”

Their food was left ignored, half-eaten and cold on the table. He was beyond relieved as silence reigned, Reinhardt sensing that now was not the time. He continued his humming once more.

Abruptly, a voice was heard outside the kitchen. They heard Athena respond through the walls: “I’m sorry, Agent Song, but the kitchen is closed because a… cooking-related incident has occurred.”

Both their heads shot up. “I think that is our cue to leave,” Reinhardt managed to whisper.

Predicting what was going to happen next, McCree readied his protest – then was hard-pressed to keep his heart from jumping out of his throat when he was hoisted up in Reinhardt’s arms.

“Take it from me, this couch is very bad for your back. Now, let us make haste!”

He ran out the back door of the kitchen, yelling a quick thank-you to Athena. The smoldering crush that McCree had harbored for years suddenly flaring up at that moment might’ve had something to do with the fact that he didn’t even demand to be put down once as they raced across the Watchpoint, feeling like the young brash recruits they were once before for a brief few minutes as they snuck through lesser-known paths back to the Medbay.

Things were all so very wrong, McCree reminded himself as he bid farewell to Reinhardt and crawled into his cot for the night. But he needed to pull himself together. Putting this all behind him was for his own good, he rationalized.

Tomorrow, he resolved, drifting off to sleep, when his dreams would haunt him no more. Tomorrow he’d do his best to forget.


	7. Are You There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers progress on their journey, but doubts continue to fester - is their mission a hopeless one, or shall they persist in the face of precious few clues?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE EXTRA CHAPTER!
> 
> God I have got to stop making unplanned chapters but they get so out of hand it’s hard to reign them in. Ok, I’m like 100% certain that this will be the actual last unplanned chapter because the climax is coming uppppp (well besides the epilogue which I still have to figure out if I’m gonna split it or what)
> 
> The first part is absolute garbage – but I had already written most of it so I just powered through and made the best of it. I am, however, very proud of how I handled the second part word-wise. But to me I can’t help but think that this is a filler chapter since nothing really happened to forward the story (even though I do get to describe their inner feelings here).

The brothers awoke to the sounds of fumbling at the front door of the barn.

It was Genji who shook the sleep from his eyes first, who then rudely shook Hanzo awake. Staggering from their respective hangovers, they climbed up to the loft and out the window they came in from, dropping to the tall grass below. After ten minutes of holding their breaths and listening to the gruff mutterings of the farmhand who was fussing over the irate animals inside, the brothers finally relaxed; they would be a while, if the long moos of the mother cow were any indication.

The pair set off in the general direction of Numbani, following the roadside that was devoid of any traffic. It was early in the morning; the sun had just made its appearance in the murky light of dawn, and the two brothers were the only signs of life for a good long stretch of farmland.

Until they spotted a large figure on the horizon, bent over and working at the land with a long tool in hand. The shape of a small cottage came into view. The figure turned.

“Hey, you two! What are you doing on my property?”

Hanzo winced as his hangover throbbed. Which then worsened when Genji cupped his hands to respond, “We will help you with your work in exchange for feeding us breakfast!”

One hour later and thoroughly exhausted, they were sat down in the farmer’s cozy home and were introduced to her very large family, who were all thrilled to share a meal with the brothers. Hanzo stuffed his face in clear appreciation as various family members took turns getting acquainted, including the husband (who sounded very much like the muttering individual they had woken up to but they politely did not mention this fact).

After breakfast the farmer directed them to the nearest bus stop to take them into Numbani. To Hanzo’s relief, Genji’s stash of swords was beginning to dwindle as he pulled out his sharpest blade yet, much to the delight of the farmer. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to see how she was going to incorporate it into her farming methods.

They boarded the bus, having no particular destination in mind; it rolled gently across the plains and then into the city proper, where traffic developed at an exponential rate.

Sick of the standstill they exited the bus out onto the main street. Immediately they were hit with wave after wave of sensations, almost overwhelming them with information: the sidewalks housed masses of people rushing about, cars overtaking each other at every opportunity. It was an organized madhouse in which the brothers got swept in the rush, feeding off the energy of the crowd.

A poster advertised on the window of a restaurant caught Hanzo’s attention. Pulling Genji by the wrist he rushed inside, announcing:

“I would like to partake in your burrito-eating challenge!”

Six humongous burritos, one hour later, and a sizable crowd egging him on, Hanzo took Numbani by storm as he took home the prize of one thousand credits and his name on the Hall Of Fame. A picture of his smug grin adorned the wall, alongside a second picture that featured both brothers standing tall and holding proof of their achievement.

Hanzo kept a copy of them both, folding it carefully into his pack. One more thing to show Jesse, he vowed.

After that, it was a simple chain of events for the brothers to go store to store inside the large mall they found themselves in. Bolstered by their food-related achievement plus an acquisition of physical cash on hand, they entered Axiom.

“How about this?” Genji swiped something off the clothing racks.

Hanzo chanced a peek from the leather jackets he was browsing through, then grimaced. “Too tacky. But I suppose that’s what you are going for, so it’s perfect I guess.”

Pulling out something multi-colored that looked like barf, one stitched monstrosity, and a Hawaiian shirt later, Genji finally settled on a crop top. Under Hanzo’s vehement protests, he put it on.

“This is perfect!” he whooped in delight.

It was a tight fit curved snug over his chest, especially over his thick travel clothing. A picture of a plant pot hovered under an open hole through the clothing – presumably where the boob window should be. Pink words etched on the front popped out over the bright green dye: SUCC written in all caps on the front, –ULENT on the back.

“Because succulents are part of the cacti family,” Hanzo said, hanging his head in defeat, hating that he has this knowledge more than any other time.

When the sting of that abomination left his retinas he opened his eyes, only to see Genji hobbling towards the cash register.

“Oh no, you are not…!”

Luckily, he’s walking slow and stiff, and the nauseating green stuck out against the comparatively muted store walls. Hanzo caught up easily.

“I would rip this to shreds, but then I would have to buy it and I do not want to dignify this _thing_ with monetary value!”

He attempted to lift the thin straps of cloth up his head but Genji was doubled over in laughter, blocking all his progress. “But I want it so bad!”

“I refuse! It’s _my_ hard-earned money we’re using.”

“But I make it look so good!”

“I have never heard a less truthful statement in my life. And that includes the time you thought you spied a tarantula crawling up the tree you were napping in.”

“It _was_ a tarantula,” the whine sounded pitiful.

“It was a piece of fuzz stuck to a branch! You were so scared you almost fell off. Pah, I wish you did! That would’ve been priceless.”

The memory came unbidden, and Hanzo remembers with a start just how disinterested he had been when he had first spotted Genji at the top of that weeping willow, cowering before a lump of fur that an animal must’ve shed some time ago, fluttering in the breeze. It had struck him more annoying than amusing at the time – all he could muster was a dull kind of amusement, one that faded just as quickly as it appeared, melting into insignificance.

Hanzo reeled back in the present, assessing Genji in a new light. “Why are you afraid of spiders anyway?”

Genji squirmed in his hold, more to bring Hanzo’s attention back to him rather than any real attempt at escaping his iron grip. “Because they have more legs than necessary,” he grumbled childishly. “What kind of animal needs that many legs?”

Hanzo looked closer. There was… something new blooming between them. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. But it was a welcome change. It had been present since the beginning of their journey, he realized, but only now does he become aware: that something in their relationship had fundamentally shifted, had reached the next stage.

He let go. “It’s because you’re ugly.”

The sudden urge to give in to his immature desire of hurling insults at his brother overpowered him. Almost immediately it sent a spike of worry down his spine, the familiar tang of guilt rising up inside his throat, a knee-jerk apology already forming. Fresh gashes and rusted scars flashed through his mind’s eye: a reminder of the physical and mental anguish he’s inflicted upon his brother. Why? Why should Genji stand to take his insults when he’s already been hurt so much by someone who loves him?

But then he dared to glance up – Genji doesn’t look as torn up as Hanzo thinks he should be feeling. In fact, he’s probably putting on the slumped shoulders and the pout purely for show. His eyes twinkled with impish glee, cheeks holding back the burst of laughter that threatened to spill over in successfully getting under his elder brother’s skin and making him sound as petulant as he is.

His fears were unfounded, blown out of proportion. Hanzo built the courage to take the next step, tussling his hair. “Fine. You can have your stupid half-shirt. But if anyone asks, I have no idea who you are or why you keep following me.”

“Heh, my stupid half-shirt to match your stupid half-shirt,” Genji said with an audible snort, stumbling to the cash register before Hanzo could change his mind.

Spilling back out into the street was disorienting; paired with Genji’s now-fluorescent upper body an abominable eyesore acting as a beacon amongst the busy pedestrians rushing to and fro they managed to keep the pace, putting one foot in front of the other in a mindless rate.

Suddenly the crowd stopped at an intersection as one entity. People milled about, waiting impatiently.

Hanzo shared a look with Genji, who was equally confused. Then, just as quickly, the crowd began to cross the street.

In the center of the crosswalk painted upon the street stood a large four-legged omnic, gleaming and golden in the afternoon sunlight. Both of her arms were out to stop incoming traffic, her head swiveling vigilantly from side to side to ensure the safety of the pedestrians crossing. She looked so imposing with her horns and strange markings on her metal surface.

The brothers’ attention was grabbed by this omnic. Genji stopped in the middle of the crosswalk.

“You are so big,” he gasped. “Who are you?”

The omnic turned to look at the human below her. “I am Orisa. And yes, I am very big.”

The slits of her eyes clicked upwards, and she puffed out her chest. She seemed very proud of this fact, as if she were extremely happy that someone noticed. “Your safety is my primary concern. That is why I am so big.”

“Road safety?” Hanzo huffed. “Your talents are going to waste. You look more fit to be on the battlefield.”

Orisa hummed. “You are right. I am.”

The omnic whirred her head towards an imposing structure, surrounded by groups of people and hovercars milling about its perimeter.

She pointed upwards. “The Adawe International Terminal in Numbani was almost completely destroyed a few months ago by an adversary named Doomfist,” she explained. “He is the leader of a terrorist group who call themselves Talon.”

Talon. That was the organization that almost killed Jesse.

“I was built to prevent Doomfist from endangering Numbani any further.” Orisa tilted her head upwards. “I suspect he will come back, and when he does, I will be ready and stronger than I was at our last meeting. I must protect this city, whatever the cost.”

Hanzo knew the feeling.

Cars filled the air with their honking. The crosswalk was clear of all pedestrians; only the three of them remained.

Orisa’s legs smoothly turned her large body to escort the two brothers to the other side. “I must go back on duty. Would you like a hug?”

The flat, broad sword that Genji placed in the curve of her horns as thanks for the hug lit up her eyes in open fascination – “I hope Efi will let me integrate this into my combat subroutines,” she cheerfully said – going back to work with extra zeal, skipping in place in a happy little dance as she continued to direct traffic.

They still had no idea how to begin their search in this crowded city; the airport was closed for renovations, and evening was fast approaching. Cutting their search short, they decided against going back to the outskirts and opted to find lodging for the night, renting out a hotel room and going out to dinner – which Hanzo more than made back up by baffling the restaurant owners and their customers by winning yet another eating competition.

Numbani gave them precious little information about Overwatch, no matter how much digging and research they did over the week they stayed. It was frustrating: not only from that obstacle, but also because Hanzo was having good, honest fun at the same time. It stung him in strange ways, especially when he reminded himself of that night in the barn, and how he promised himself to stay vigilant for Jesse and to not get distracted.

But these humans were fascinating, and so was Numbani and its culture and rich history. And Genji, too, who did nothing to help stop the ache in his chest when he was his biggest fan, able to turn any occasion special. It was hard to stay somber as he dominated his competition, laughed so candidly, enjoyed his every moment.

It was almost a relief to leave Numbani behind. As the bus carried them out the other side of the city, an advertisement played on the mini-screens above.

“Look ,Hanzo, look!” Genji could hardly contain his excitement, wonder shining in his eyes. “Omnic monks!”

They were omnics, alright: tall, slender beings wrapped in flowing robes of all patterns of vibrant colors. The slow way they moved their limbs as they talked through the ad radiated patience and extolled gentleness, despite their impassive expressions and metallic features.

“Now I have seen everything,” Genji sighed, eyes never leaving the screen. “I can die happy.”

“We must show our support for the Shambali Monastery, and for our fallen brothers and sisters,” said one of the monks on-screen. “It does not matter whether we are human or machine. We are all one within the Iris. Join us for a demonstration at King’s Row in London, to pray for all those that have dedicated their lives to equality for all.”

“Never mind, I can’t die yet.” Genji straightened in his chair. “Hanzo, we have to go there.”

“Hm. We shall see.” They would reach London soon in their travels.

______

“You must be here to visit the main attraction,” the bartender with the raspy voice said as she served the brothers their respective drinks. Hanzo sniffed at his pint, mildly curious.

Their current destination, however, was not London; intrigued by the Omnic Crisis, they made a quick stop in a small unassuming town in rural Germany. Their plan was to stay there for the night before venturing to seek out the abandoned fortress in the countryside.

“Eichenwalde is not for the faint of heart,” the bartender continued. “The German government still hasn’t cleaned up the place, and I suspect after all these years they aren’t in any sort of rush to. But that doesn’t stop people from going, I imagine, tourists like yourselves. Between you and me, though, it’s an open secret.” She winked. “Top off your drink?”

Shook from his pensive state Hanzo nodded eagerly, while Genji watched in now-mild distaste at his brother’s bottomless and all-accepting stomach. Glancing down at his hardly-touched dark brew, he peeked over his shoulder. The bar wasn’t empty; at this time of night it’s far from it, the coming evening bringing numerous patrons.

All of whom seemed to know each other, apparently. Although they’ve sorted themselves into separate groups, bellows of laughter and small talk reach out across the space, people mingling about with everyone…

…and Hanzo had somehow gotten himself involved in a drinking contest between five other huge hulking men and women, forming a raucous mini-party in the center of the bar – Three-Drink Hanzo’s doing, no doubt. Genji sighed resignedly, settling himself in for a long night.

“Genji! Meet my new friends!”

Or maybe not.

“This is my little brother!” The heavy arm thrown carelessly around his shoulders hauled him over to the crowded table, where Genji was beset with enthusiastic greetings and more drinks, which he politely declined.

Well, at least Hanzo was happy. The speed by which he out-drank two people was both impressive and alarming, only growing stronger with each victory. When he tried climbing the table, though, Genji pulled him down.

“No, no, none of that. You are very drunk,” he tried to reason.

However, one woman’s voice, Hette, boomed louder, “Aye lay off, let him be. We will keep him unharmed if you’re so worried. But no promises – counting your bruises the day after is part of the fun, hah! Show us your moves, lad!”

“Yes!” bellowed Niklas, an equally massive individual. “To the DDR machine!”

It turned out those who hadn’t had much to drink were the ones who provided quality entertainment, keeping up the rhythm and dancing so fiercely the ancient DDR floorpads looked to be just one stomp away from cracking. Hanzo, who had been peering jealously from afar, put himself through a particularly flashy set of assorted martial arts kicks and punches, still managing to attract a large crowd.

Genji plopped into the seat next to his exhausted brother, handing him a basket of fries. “Please eat something before you pass out.”

Hanzo was having the time of his life; the grin hadn’t left his face, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement. But even as he wordlessly scarfed down his fries, Genji recognized a distant quality to his gaze – a pervasive tiredness that went past simple exertion; eyes unfocused, dull and far-away, taking a few seconds to come back to the present.

Perhaps it was time to take their leave. As slowly as possible, Genji slid the tiny cocktail out of his grasp, “Okay, Hanzo, I think it’s time to turn in for the night–”

“Do you think Jesse would like it here?”

Hanzo was smiling blearily at him, head pillowed in his arms. But there was an acute sadness pronounced in his stare, profound and aching.

Oh no. Sad Hanzo had crashed the party.

“Why so glum, lad? Come, we are about to celebrate Henrik’s birthday!”

Niklas had horrendous timing.

“Go on without me,” Hanzo said in a too-loud voice, waving him off. “Enjoy without me, for I cannot enjoy life anymore.”

Amazingly, Niklas wasn’t scared off. Concerned, he planted himself in the seat next to him, opening his mouth to ask for clarification just as Hanzo moaned on, “I have travelled the world in the span of a few weeks, seen sights that are wholly new and wondrous to me, that have awed me to no end.”

Sad Hanzo also believed he secretly possessed a silver tongue.

Genji felt a hand grip his wrist, drunkenly thrusting it upwards. “And I have learned about my brother, too, who is very annoying most of the time, but who I owe very much to. He is too clever for his own good and is great at making friends and laughs at unfunny things too much. But I would have lived a life not worth living were it not for him and his incessant support.”

For a minute, it almost looked like Hanzo forgot why he was sad in the first place.

“And yet, there is something else that I yearn for. Some _one_ else.”

Nope.

Genji scowled as he whacked a stray drink sliding closer towards Hanzo. “That man is Jesse, and every single one of you _must_ meet him. Because he is a strange man, but the best kind of strange – he is fearless and honorable, humble and patient when the odds are against his favor. Strong, in more ways than one. Jesse, he who I adore and love and miss so…”

He trailed off, unmindful of the silent and rapt audience he had amassed, groaning pitifully into his hands. Niklas patted him on the back, comforting and sympathetic.

“To Jesse,” said a deep voice.

Every eye in the bar turned as one to a man in a shadowed corner. A fierce fire burned in his eyes. “And to Hanzo, our new friend. May you two be destined to find each other soon.”

This was when Genji most wanted to take a picture to immortalize this moment forever: as everyone took a sip, the atmosphere turning solemn. It felt too much like an invasion of privacy, though: of Hanzo’s grief, of the compassion of the strangers, of the vulnerabilities they each revealed in solidarity.

“Here.”

The mysterious man appeared beside Hanzo, holding a box. He set it down on the table. “It is my birthday cake. You may have some.”

The mood of the bar lifted considerably after that, singing good wishes to Henrik – who was as stoic as ever except for the barest hint of a smile, retreating back to his corner. As dramatic his brother’s drunken rants could be, Genji knew there was a kernel of truth embedded in his words. It disquieted him, leaving him absorbed in thought to wonder just how far deep Hanzo’s pain had gone, and if Genji was the reason he had buried his pain and fear of the new since leaving the forest; it made him feel awful and selfish. What else was his brother hiding?

Nevertheless he turned back to the middle of the bar, forcing himself to bask in tonight’s cheer. Hungry Hanzo had finally made his entrance; at least half the cake was already gone.

The past was the past; they must live in the here and now, or they would be consumed by regret, no different than when they lived in the forest. It took an effort, but Genji’s grin soon took on a wicked tilt. Well – he most definitely needs to take pictures of Hanzo’s beard dotted with clumps of frosting.

______

The answer to whether alcohol paired well with strawberry shortcake remained unanswered, given that Hanzo woke up with his usual hangover glare late the next day. He remained taciturn and aloof, more so than usual; Genji figured the events of last night had caught up to him.

Eichenwalde was visible from the highest hill of the town, the towering castle painting a magnificent view upon the horizon. Some of the worst battles in Germany had happened there during the Omnic Crisis, the locals told them. A history of bloodshed still suffused its walls to this day.

A sense of foreboding blanketed the two brothers as they hiked towards the castle, one they couldn’t shake off since last night – or at least, Genji couldn’t. He was left trailing behind Hanzo this time, probing eyes never leaving his back. He had been wanting to take the weight that burdened his brother’s shoulders for a long time now – especially since yesterday’s events, but he didn’t know how to without searching for signs of weakness; something Hanzo would resent him for if he found out, no doubt.

Genji sighed. That wasn’t even beginning to mention how they were left with just as many leads and clues as when they had first started their journey. It hurt to watch the hope in Hanzo’s eyes disappear with each passing day, each scrap of information coming up short. This trip was taking a toll on him. On them both.

Perhaps this mission to find Jesse was fruitless. Suddenly the thought of visiting Eichenwalde sounded gut-wrenchingly depressing. Not to mention how useless this trip would likely turn out to be. What would they find in a long-abandoned battlefield that they hadn’t found in some of the biggest cities in the world?

The merriment of last night couldn’t cheer him up. In fact, none of the memories they made so far lifted the fog around Genji’s head. They had more destinations in mind, but it’s becoming inevitable that Genji would have to have a talk with Hanzo, sooner rather than later. As painful as it was for him – for the _both_ of them…

There would one day come a time when they would have to give up.

It was for their own goods, Genji tried to persuade himself. But it left a bad taste in his mouth to cut their journey short on such a sad place like Eichenwalde. Jumping over a fallen tree, he pondered under the sun’s rays, soft and serene.

Their next stop was a place called Watchpoint: Gibraltar. It was abandoned, and was likely the only place where they would find any additional information on Overwatch.

That was it, then. If they find something on Jesse, they would continue their search. If not…

Genji growled, frustrated. Going back to the forest was not an option anymore. Regardless of whether or not they could accomplish their goal, they had made so much progress – to force Hanzo to go back to his living prison would harm him for good. But what else could they do? What would they do after all this?

A muffled curse up ahead jerked him out of his thoughts. “Watch your step,” Hanzo grunted forcefully.

They had emerged from the dense forest into a giant field of grass, each individual blade flowing gently in the breeze. In the not-too-far distance stood Eichenwalde castle.

It was a breathtaking scene: the grass stretching as far as the eye could see, contrasting beautifully against the dark grays of the castle, tall and imposing.

An uneasy itch made itself known under Genji’s skin. He gulped.

“Hm, we made good time,” Hanzo muttered.

Genji snorted, “You say that as if we are on a schedule or something,” but his heart wasn’t in it.

“It’s a good habit to be on a schedule,” he said, pointing to the sky. “See? We will be in and out before the sun goes down…”

There was more he was going to say, throwing back the beginnings of a rant over his shoulder to lecture him – when he cut himself off with a pained yelp.

Immediately, Genji tensed. “Hanzo? What was that?”

The noise that had rung out sounded nothing like what would be present in a grassy field; it sounded hollow, metallic. Large. Genji moved forward despite the icy alarm coiling his stomach.

In between layers of grass and stalks of cattails a hunk of dull orange machinery lay inert: its chassis spilt open, wires hanging out, innards exposed to the elements. Greenery had begun to sneak amidst the complicated wiring. Genji’s heart sunk when he could make out the arms and a blockish head.

Of course. This had been a battlefield, once. Sick to his stomach he squinted into the distance, dreading what he knew he would find. Gray square shapes jutted out one by one, dotting the peaceful landscape as a reminder of the past. He looked away, a foreign grief overcoming him. Before he could spiral any further though, a grounding hand gripped his shoulder, drifting down to encircle his arm.

“I did not…” Hanzo said, then cleared his throat. Though he couldn’t see his face, his voice had given him away: shaken, much like himself, but more subdued. “The bartender said as much, but I did not think... they would leave it. Like this.” He frowned, so out of place with the pain furrowing his brow. “These omnics deserve to rest.”

There was nothing Genji could say, too busy in choking off the nausea that threatened to burn up his throat. Mateen, Numbani, Orisa, those omnic monks – why should the omnics here be littered like trash?

Eichenwalde engulfed the horizon, tall and foreboding. Unmoved by the corpses surrounding it.

“Genji?” Hanzo recognized what his silence was saying. “We don’t have to go any further. I do not mind leaving this place behind–”

Genji transformed in record time, making his brother step back in surprise. He rolled his long head impatiently, tugging at Hanzo’s shirt upwards.

“You’re right. Let’s get this over with.”

It wasn’t too much of a gamble to guess that the castle was abandoned, but they took their precautions nonetheless. The green dragon blended in perfectly with the field; just a shimmer of his scales glinting in the sun revealed his presence, and the tiny speck of blue upon his back was concealed by thick wavy tresses of fur fluttering in the wind. The pair wasted no time weaving their way towards the castle, preferring not to linger.

The deafening quiet had hardly been broken when they alighted on a broad street, overgrown with moss. The suspended stillness was like a solid thing – as if the castle itself did not want them there.

“The townspeople were wrong. No one has disturbed this place for quite some time.”

Though it was hardly above a whisper, Hanzo was brave enough to speak into the musty air. Genji snorted, wrinkling his nose. He was right: the smell of stagnation was far too pungent for anyone, human or animal, to stir it in recent time.

A hand tugged lightly at his tumbling mane of fur. “Are you going to stay like that?”

Hanzo attempted the barest of amused smiles, but it was a strained effort. The vague unease had come back stronger than before, throwing his senses into overdrive. Genji only sidled up to his brother in response: as if to say, _stay near me_.

In a rare moment of compliance, Hanzo nodded. They set off down the cracked pavement, no destination in mind.

Setting foot in this place felt like an even worse idea now that they were within its walls, witnessing first-hand the signs of desolation and how acute it stung. Derelict buildings remained standing in wistful reminiscence of peaceful times long past, broken slats of wood and cracked brick a permanent reminder of what befell here. They travelled up a steep slope, passing by gouged out homes like discarded shells, hastily deserted; and under an overpass which lent a frigid cold that had nothing to do with the shade provided against the weak sunlight.

Genji’s dragon form had no goosebumps to speak of – approaching ever closer to the massive wooden gates that led into the castle proper, however, dwarfed him in ways that not even his substantial size could make him feel any more secure: like they were defiling the very earth they were standing on just by their presence alone.

His jaw grew tight with restlessness, each step becoming harder and harder to take. In a way, they were trespassing: disturbing the resting places of souls who were denied the peace they deserved. Piles of metal remains doubled in number, scattered all across the walkway leading up to the gate. The coats of ivy that slithered down the fortress’s walls did nothing to cover up scooped-out indents of stone scarring its front.

Only now did Hanzo snap out of his trudging pace, jogging up to the entrance. “I can climb in from there,” he pointed to a small window at the crown of the gate. “I will have the doors open soon. Wait just a moment.” He readied himself into a running start…

…just as a hard pull yanked him back, almost making him lose his balance.

Genji’s stocky legs stepped over him. Scowling snout pushed forward he squawked out his protest, then snaked his long body in between Hanzo and the gate, effectively cutting off access to the open window.

Instead of getting irritated though, Hanzo only blew out a sigh, a solemn expression softening his features. For he crossed his arms and said, “Not good news, I wager?”

Genji relaxed his stance, folding his limbs in under his body. _Only death_ , he wanted to say – a weak but unmistakable stench that wafted out from the window on the stalest of currents, decayed and eye-watering despite its dilution and the passage of time.

Genji bent his head low. The sickly sweet scent of death: human, faint – mixed with the heavy tang of corroded metal.

But he couldn’t say that; or rather, chose not to reveal the contents of what awaited them inside the castle. It was undeniable – a place which was once teeming with life was now but a bleak memory, bloodstained and in limbo. Eichenwalde would not be free from its torment. No, not today. Not anytime soon.

Then, another scent: this one smoky, wooden, a different kind of sweet. Freshly lit – coming from his left.

Hanzo, too, had sat down. Unsmiling, face set in stone, peering down to train his gaze at the sticks of burning incense he placed inside the small holder, every action reverent and humble. He blinked once, slow, unhurried. Took a deep breath, let it out. Closed his eyes. His lips moved in silent supplication.

For who? Genji already knew: for human, for omnic, for all those who died. For his forest and Hanamura. For the success of their journey. For Hanzo and Genji. For Jesse. For Jesse. For Jesse.

Every tragedy eventually plants the seeds of healing. Eichenwalde is left under the wash of a purple evening, its walls a little less burdened, lulled to slumber for the first time in ages – thanks to the two dragons twining high in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I go thinkin I’m a poet eeeeee
> 
> Bit of a vaguer ending that I normally like, but I just wanted this chapter done and over with
> 
> I almost made myself cry with that ending - stuff is coming full circle with hanzo’s growth and acceptance and his relationship with genji and what he’s learned so far aaaaaaaa ;_;

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, new story, this time with more huge noodle dragons! I can't seem to get that concept out of my head apparently xD


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